


Abelas and siren song

by Umerue



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Llomerryn, Music, Not Beta Read, Pirates, Problems with religion, Romance, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umerue/pseuds/Umerue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Sulehn Lavellan has been cursed from birth with a siren song. Her voice can make mountains literally weep, which is horribly unpractical because it leads to avalanches. What she sings, becomes reality, and that is why she has been silent ever since she accidentally gave wings to Keeper Deshanna on her third birthday. Getting the power-up from Anchor didn't help the issue at all.</p><p>Abelas was perfectly (un)happy with his fate until Sulehn visited temple of Mythal and ruined his dutiful existence with her siren song. One moment he was mourning the bitter fate which would free him to world to wander around without purpose, and then he heard a siren song trilling promises of new name. Since he didn't have anything else to do, he decided to take up her offer.</p><p>It is a good thing that he is a thousand-year-old arcane warrior. The consequences of making Sulehn scream his name in bed could have embarrassed a lesser man to death. But Abelas endures.</p><p>Set after the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired of kinkmeme! prompt of singing Inquisitor, but since I wanted to write Abelas instead of Cullen and I'm not good at writing graphic sex scenes, I decided to run with the idea. 
> 
> The song in this chapter is "Nemo" by Nightwish. Sulehn is obviously a heavy metal woman, making her gift even stranger in world of Thedas.

Abelas knew he was on the verge of waking up, and he hated it. A sweet fragrance of blooming mythalwood turned into smell of dust, itching in his nostrils. The insistent feeling became stronger and his dreams more fragile, until the bubble broke and he opened his yellow eyes, staring at the ceiling. The fracture he remembered from last time had broken into two separate lines, now. Sighing, Abelas decided to look if they still had the plaster somewhere. After they would defeat the intruders to temple, of course.

He could hear his brothers and sisters stirring near him. There were too many empty beds, now. The ones born after the closing of temple doors never lived long, and at some point the temple guardians had lost heart to even think about having more children, even if it meant there would be no new sentinels to protect the Vir'Abelasan. Abelas understood them very well, although he had never given to temptation. He knew sorrow like his own name, and did not wish to add to his burden.

 

The fight did not go as usually. There were two groups of invaders instead of one, and Abelas felt the deaths of those he had sent to bridge. It was always the same, every time they woke up. Only question was how many died this time. He steeled his heart, reminding himself that this was their duty. The Vir'Abelasan had to be protected at all costs.  
"Abelas.", one of his brothers came to him. "The first group of attackers broke the floor in pilgrim chamber and jumped in, trying to reach the well. I sent seven of us to wait for them. But the other group is very strange."  
"What do you mean?", Abelas asked.  
"Their leader, a silent woman with white hair, has features of elvhen and markings of Dirthamen. She is performing the rites of Mythal. And I think she is accompanied by Fen'Harel and two shemlens. They call him Solas, and argue about gods with him."  
Abelas made up his mind.  
"If they show respect to Mythal, we will open the doors to supplicants' chamber and hear their explanations. Mythal would not have wanted us to give offence to Fen'Harel, if he truly is here."

 

"Venavis.", Abelas said, gesturing his archers to wait.  
"You..are unlike the other invaders.", he addressed the white-haired woman who was obviously the leader of their group. She carried a mage staff. "You have the features of those who call themselves elvhen. You bear a mark of magic which is.. familiar. How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?"  
The woman looked at him, but did not speak. A shemlen warrior, standing behind her, answered:  
"We have come to stop Corypheus and his templars from finding whatever dark magic he wants from this place."  
Abelas considered the group below him. He did not like the ambition which was clear on shemlen witch's face, and neither he cared about the female warrior who had spoken to him. Fen'Harel was passive, obviously hiding his true identity, but his very presence told Abelas all he needed to know. This Corypheus they spoke about had came for the Well, like every invader before him, and Fen'Harel's companions would try to take the well instead. But there was no reason to fight two enemies at one time, if it could be avoided.  
"I am called Abelas.", he told them. "We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass the sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion."  
The white-haired woman looked at him, her lips parting as to say something, but Abelas continued:  
"I know what you seek. Like all who have come before you, you wish to drink from Vir'Abelasan. It is not for you. For any of you."  
Still she did not answer. Instead, she swept her fingers over a golden bracelet she wore, and Fen'Harel, who was wearing it's twin, said:  
"Sulehn wishes to know if you truly are elves from ancient times, before the Tevinter imperium destroyed Arlathan."

Their three-way discussion went on for some time, and Abelas found his curiosity stirring. What kind of mage had a god as her interpreter? She obviously did not know a thing about her own history. But when he spoke about the deaths of his brothers and sisters, and the sleep from which they were called, there was compassion in her eyes. It made him angry, and he lashed out to her, when she claimed to be same people. He endured, and it was only thing which mattered. He had no need for sympathy from those who lived in forest like shadows, with vallaslin on their faces. Her words, spoken by Fen'Harel, were courageous and demanding, pointing out that they had respected the rites of Mythal best they could, and Abelas found himself agreeing on an alliance.  
It was before the shemlen witch turned into a bird and flew, trying to reach Vir'Abelasan.

 

His shameful failure was bitter in his heart. The witch flew to the Well, and although he ran as fast as he could, the magic creating stairs on his footsteps, he was not fast enough. Sulehn followed him, and the invaders stood mere steps away from Well of Sorrows. All these years, all these sacrifices, and he had failed.  
"So the sanctum is despoiled at last.", he spat, unable to control the sorrow which spread in his heart. They would take the well, and he would be freed to wander in this foreign, horrible world with no purpose at all.  
Sulehn looked at him, opened her lips, and suddenly world was full of sound.

Abelas almost fell when the piercing bright sounds of instruments he had not heard since fall of Arlathan filled the temple. Sulehn was holding her arms wide, and the very stones of temple sang for her, magic flowing from everywhere. The darker sounds from dead invaders joined her, their souls rising to serve her song. The female shemlen warrior made a disgruntled noise, but Fen'Harel's lips were curved in smile as he looked at Abelas.  
Sulehn's voice was like divine blessing poured into his soul. And like every divine blessing, it felt like the sharpest blade, cutting through his armor.

_"This is me for forever_   
_One of the lost ones_   
_The one without a name_   
_Without an honest heart as compass_   
_This is me for forever_   
_One without a name_   
_These lines the last endeavor_   
_To find the missing lifeline "_

"What are you doing?", Abelas cried out, trying to retreat, but he could not. The song from her lips held him in place. There were tears in her purple eyes, and the sky above them darkened. Abelas felt the first drops of water falling on skin.

_"Oh how I wish_   
_For soothing rain_   
_All I wish is to dream again_   
_My loving heart_   
_Lost in the dark_   
_For hope I'd give my everything "_

He dropped in his knees. His desperation, his sorrow, everything torn out from him like opening a festering wound. He tried to fight it, but her magic was too strong. Siren song.  
Sulehn stepped closer, brushing the vallaslin on his forehead with her cold fingers. Abelas stared at her, unable to utter a single reasonable word. She sang:

  
_"Walk the dark path_   
_Sleep with angels_   
_Call the past for help_   
_Touch me with your love_   
_And reveal to me my true name"_

It was a promise. Abelas felt like choking, but she continued, pulling the years of sorrow and regret from his soul. The soothing rain fell on him, and the memories of death and loss lost their edge, dulling until they were merely old and faded scars.  
Her spell strengthened, and her companions, the shemlen and Fen'Harel alike, lifted their voices to wordless, ethereal chorus. Her soprano sang of Abelas going home and letting go. He didn't want to, but he couldn't fight it, either. The music trembled deep in his bones, and even the Well of Sorrows wept for him.  
  
Finally the music ended and she closed her mouth. Abelas' legs were shaking as he stood up. The rain had stopped, and the sky was clearing. He looked at her, and Sulehn smiled at him mischievously. Abelas opened his mouth, closed it again, and then wordlessly gestured towards the well before he turned away and almost ran down the stairs.

 

"Touch me with your love?", Morrigan asked as Abelas had escaped. "You are not a shy one, aren't you, Inquisitor?"  
Sulehn giggled and swiped at her bracelet. Solas chuckled under his breath.  
"She says that if she must be silent, she has to make up for it with actions. You may drink, Morrigan."


	2. Blood magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ..where Abelas arrives to Skyhold and Sulehn learns he has several surprising talents.

Sulehn stood on the Skyhold balcony, listening the voices in the yard. Her fingers touched the bracelet on her wrist, but nobody answered. She suppressed a sob. The past year had been like a dream from Fade coming true. Years and years of silence finally ending, and turning into speech. She had hugged Solas on the day he had brought the elven artifacts to her, explaining how they could be used to circumvent her curse. He had been her friend, her confidant, her voice, and now he was gone and she was forced to live her life in silence.

She had tried everything she could think of. Every member of Inner Circle had worn the bracelet, every man and woman inhabiting Skyhold, but it didn't work. Finally Vivienne had said what they all thought: maybe it was something meant only for elves, some secret magic thrumming in their blood which none of them had after Solas left. Sulehn doubted it, because the bracelet did not work on Fiona either. It was something she should have thought about earlier, but she hadn't felt comfortable letting Dorian or Vivienne to try the another bracelet. Dorian would have made jokes on her expense, although kind ones, and Vivienne would have chosen what she thought Inquisitor should say, instead of relaying her words as they were.

The members of Inner Circle were compassionate, but none of them understood the true depth of her loss or her tears when Solas left after the orb broke. She got by using Dalish hand signs and writing notes, but Sulehn was heartily sick of writing notes. Cole had offered to help, but his concept of privacy was nonexistent, and Sulehn did not want him to tell her every feeling and thought to others.

Solas had made the effort of being her friend, speaking to her from the very first day after they met, even if she could not answer. He had started by seeking her in the Fade because there her voice did not shake heavens and change things. For first time in her life, Sulehn had a chance to ask questions, make jokes, hold a discussion like normal people. And then he had found her freedom in Dirthamen's temple, from an old box hidden beneath the altar.

Stupid Corypheus. Sulehn wondered if it would be possible to resurrect the magister just to kill him again for breaking the orb. Solas had been confident that with the orb's power he could have removed her curse but now it was never going to happen. Elven foci were not just laying around, waiting to be picked up. He had promised that if he ever found another, or any way to help her, he would return, but Sulehn was not foolish enough to get her hopes up. She kicked the balcony wall in voiceless anger. She wanted to scream and shout, to curse, but she _couldn't_. The cursing was especially bad idea. Other people took it so granted. They could say "fucking Corypheus" whenever they liked, but Sulehn didn't even want to think what would happen if she tried it. Words would probably turn into a song and.. It was best not to think about it. Fenedhis.

She took the palette Solas had left behind and started doodling on the wall next to stairs. It wasn't as satisfying as cursing, but it had to do. Sulehn had plenty of experience in drawing stick figures, since it had been only way to speak before she learned to write. She started with Corypheus shot full of arrows.

 

 

Sulehn had progressed to painting a scene of Corypheus in Orlesian ball. She was humming quietly under her breath as she drew the dowager duchesses chasing Corypheus - "a single, well-known man with many connections is always an asset in the Game, my dear, no matter what he looks like", the speech bubble announced - and was just trying to decide what kind of look would be best to describe magister's fear, when she heard heavy steps coming closer. Varric. She liked Varric; he never treated her differently than anyone else.

"Hello, Violet.", Varric greeted her as he pushed the door open. "I have a guest for you."  
Sulehn saw a tall elf behind Varric, and suddenly the words of a song were on the tip of her tongue, demanding to get out. Quickly, she put both hands over her mouth, barely remembering to put the paintbrush down first.  
Abelas looked at her, his yellow eyes severe but without the desperation she remembered.  
"I thought your name was Sulehn.", he offered.  
"It's a nickname.", Varric said. "You look like Happy to me."  
Abelas gave him a look which was cold enough to wither flowers and turned to Sulehn.  
"I require answers from you.", he said. "Where is the other bracelet?"  
Sulehn took it from the table and offered to Abelas. Her shoulders slumped, and she braced herself for yet another disappointment.  
Instead of putting it on, Abelas turned it around, running his long fingers along the carved surface. Making a disgruntled noise, he shook his head:  
"Why everything in this cursed world is broken? Do you have any tools here?"  
"What do you mean?", Varric asked. "Chuckles - I mean Solas - was only one who could make it work. I'm sure he would have noticed if it was broken."  
Abelas snorted.  
"Those like Solas.", he said sarcastically, "are not accustomed to fixing broken things. People like him usually get a replacement when something breaks. They can afford it, especially with resources like yours. While I have spent over thousand years guarding a temple which did not stay intact just by itself. Do you have any tools I could use, or not?"

 

 

 

Abelas had taken her bracelets to undercroft hours ago, and Sulehn was starting to get nervous. She was waiting in the main hall near the door leading to her quarters. She passed time by eavesdropping Cassandra and mother Giselle discussing - or arguing, to be exact - Cassandra's coronation. The issue was whether releasing the white doves was appropriate or not. Cassandra, naturally, hated the idea. Sulehn wasn't too keen on her role in proceedings, but she could crown Divine if she had to. The religious fanatics of the Chantry loved her, and it was Leliana's fault. After the Conclave, Leliana had spread rumors that her muteness was a sign of piety, and as the Herald of Andraste, she had sworn not to speak except to deliver messages from Our Blessed Lady.  
Although it was ridiculous idea, Sulehn still thought it was a way better than her Keeper's opinion of her being cursed from the birth. Humans were usually very respectful to her. Except Sera, but Sera didn't respect anyone. Since Chantry was full of priests sworn not to utter a word which wasn't in the Chant, her silence was seen favorably.

Cassandra had won argument about doves, but Sulehn knew she was going to lost the one about shaving her hair to make the stupid headdress to fit better. She idly wondered what was the connection between baldness and power. The ancient elves didn't have any, and Solas had shaved his hair. Chantry seemed to follow suit.  
"I am not going to cut my hair.", Cassandra was saying forcefully.  
"I understand your anger, but you must consider the souls in your care. This has been a trying time for everyone, and traditionally the Divine--", Mother Giselle said, but Sulehn no longer paid any attention. The undercroft door was opening, and Abelas strode out. It was a pity she was too nervous about his news to truly appreciate his fine figure in that armor. Swallowing, Sulehn stood a bit straighter and waited. She saw the bracelet around his wrist, and decided it was a good sign. It had to be.

 

"It should be working, now.", Abelas said and took her wrist, snapping the bracelet lock neatly on place. "But in the future, I recommend you should not let it get thirsty again. It would be best to feed the magic as soon as possible."  
His back was towards Cassandra and Mother Giselle, which was probably good, because Sulehn swore those two were ogling him. She made them a quick twist of fingers, a Dalish hunter hand sign which was translated as "Keep your hands off my prey!"  
"Is that how you have gotten by? Signing of some sort?", Abelas asked wryly, still holding her wrist. "The ignorance of this Age never ceases to surprise me."  
He took a dagger from the folds of his short, hooded cloak, and unceremoniously drew it lightly over the skin of her wrist. The knife was so sharp Sulahn barely registered any pain, and she stared frozenly at the blood welling on her skin. Behind Abelas, Cassandra noticed the odd look on Inquisitor's face and stood up, saying something to Mother Giselle who nodded.  
"You will notice a difference in the functioning of the bracelet as soon as it has fed enough. Blood sings to blood, and this is very straightforward spell.", Abelas said, and Sulehn felt his magic stirring in the air. But at the very moment, she looked behind him and saw Cassandra striding towards them. She knew that look. It was Cassandra's "is someone bothering you"-look, which never ended well. And this time, it was going to end in catastrophe when future Divine saw Abelas working blood magic spell on the Inquisitor.

There was no time to consider. She could already see the first tendrils of his magic guiding blood into bracelet, and Cassandra was almost on them.  
Furiously, she swept her fingers over the bracelet, screaming inwardly:  
_"Play along, you foolish man! Blood magic is illegal and others will kill you or make you Tranquil if they see!"  
_ Sulehn Lavellan pushed Abelas against wall, hiding the discriminating blood magic between their bodies, and kissed the daylights out of him.

 

His lips were cool at first, and Sulehn startled when his yellow eyes flashed at her. She didn't understand until much later that it had been amusement, not anger. Her mind opened, and she heard his voice as clearly as he had spoken out loud - which he couldn't do at the moment -  
_"I didn't know it was customary to move so quickly in this Age._ ", Abelas noted.  
_"It's not my fault I couldn't come up with better bluff! You should have warned me you were going to use blood magic! The woman coming to us is the new Divine, leader of human faith.",_ Sulehn thought frantically. _"If she sees the blood or senses the magic, we are both dead."_  
_"Ah. I understand._ ", Abelas replied through the bracelet. He let go of her bleeding wrist, and put his hand on her neck to pull her closer. The blood stains on his fingers were safely hidden under her long hair, and Sulehn almost yelped when she felt his other hand sliding down her back and grabbing her butt in outrageous manner. And then he kissed her with open mouth. Sulehn knew the tips of her ears were blushing fiery red, and his tongue was in her mouth, and he was a wonderful kisser and she hoped Cassandra would freeze on place but her knees might give out if Cassandra didn't go away soon... Oh, Creators.  
"Oh, get a room, you two.", she heard Cassandra scolding her somewhere behind her back. The woman made a disgruntled noise.  
"Shall we?", Abelas asked her. Sulehn thought it was rather formal, considering the brazen nature of their interaction which had made the whole Skyhold stare at them. But she nodded wordlessly, making sure that she kept her body pressed against his so tightly that nobody could spy the blood staining his armor. It would be horrible pity if he died.

His fingers cupped her butt and hoisted her up effortlessly, like picking up a child. There was nothing childlike in kiss which followed, and she wound her thighs around his waist, not caring if the Chantry mothers died for shock. Orlesian nobles cheered as Abelas kicked the door leading to her quarters open and walked backwards through the doorway. As soon as they were through, Sulehn used Anchor to lock the door with magic.

 

Finally out of sight and danger, the sheer oddity of her position dawned at Sulehn. She looked at Abelas, who said nothing, his face not giving her anything to go by. She felt horribly embarrassed as she uncrossed her legs behind his back and jumped down.  
_"Come. You said you had questions for me."_ , Sulehn said through the bracelet, starting to climb the stairs towards her quarters.  
_"There are many things which need to be clarified."_ , he replied. _"I have no wish to die because shemlen of this Age harbor superstitions and false fears about magic. And the dwarf I met earlier, Varric. I saw him in the main hall, taking notes. Is that usual behavior for durgen'len?"_  
Sulehn groaned inwardly and decided that she had to ask Leliana to stop next dispatch to Varric's editor. Preferably before Abelas found out he was starring Varric's next smutty novel.


	3. Mother Giselle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas has an admirer, who causes him panic attacks. Sulehn is not pleased, and decides to do something about it. 
> 
> Set roughly five months after Abelas' arrival to Skyhold and two weeks before Cassandra's coronation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painting mentioned this chapter is the beautiful Abelas tarot card drawn by Slice of Creativity.  
> http://swevenfox.tumblr.com/post/108087847471/abelas-tarot-card-finished-chosen-tarot

He was still hot and sweaty after his training when she came to talk to him in the yard.  
"Your skills are gift from Maker, Abelas.", mother Giselle said, placing her hand on his arm. "Have you ever given thought to using them in a service of God and the Blessed Lady? The coronation is soon, and Divine Victoria will need blades like yours in her service. None of our Knight-Enchanters can compare to you."  
"My skills have nothing to do with your Maker, woman.", Abelas replied coldly. "My life was pledged in service of Mythal, not your god."  
"If you already believe in multiple gods and serve one of them, why wouldn't you have room in your heart for one more?", Giselle asked kindly.  
"I said I served.", Abelas corrected, feeling the anger and anxiety rising.  
"In my experience, serving a god does not end.", mother Giselle said, her voice soft.  
"My duty has ended.", Abelas snapped, pushing her hand away.

He strode towards the main hall, walking as quickly as he could. The old, suffocating feeling was rising in his mind, making the colors dimmer and every step heavier than the last. A service of god. To sleep, to wake up, to fight and die. World each time less familiar than the last time he woke. A god who never answered, because she was dead. _No_. He _couldn't_ do it again. He didn't want to, but they asked him, not understanding the cost, or caring about it. He could feel the ghosts of old peeking behind the corners of Tarasyl'an te'las, laughing or shaking their heads at his delusion, at his faint hope of new name. He didn't want duty, he wanted something else, something bright and new. Varric tried to stop him to say something, but Abelas was not on the mood for idle chat. The shemlen didn't understand. He had been here for five months, but they understood nothing, and they didn't know what they asked, they never did--  
He felt the bracelet on his hand getting warmer as he got near the war room, and he almost ran, sparing a glance for hole in the wall. Why the shems never fixed anything? Sulehn was there, with her advisors, and they all turned to look at him when he entered the room.

Abelas could not speak, could not say anything, because the dark was almost upon him. Her purple eyes understood, and she came to him, her steps quick.  
"Leave us.", he told her advisors. Josephine and Cullen exchanged glances, but Leliana nodded, pulling the two others after her. Abelas stood at the door, feeling like he was drowning, and barely registering the annoyed look Cullen gave him as he left. As soon as the door closed, Sulehn took a hold on him, and her magic filled the room.

The words were elven, comforting in their familiarity. Abelas did not know how she had learned the song, but he remembered it had been sung to elders who entered uthenera. Her voice was like cool water, taste of honey and magic, all the good things in life. With deep breath, Abelas let himself relax, feeling the magic wash away his fear and the darkness of old memories.

 

"Thank you.", Abelas said, when it was finally over.  
 _"I am pleased to see that my curse can help you."_ , Sulehn's voice replied in his mind.  
"Curse?", Abelas asked, astonished.  
 _"My Keeper told it was a curse of Dirthamen, laid on me because my mother defiled his temple before I was born. They would have killed me, but they were afraid of calling on gods' wrath upon our clan. I was sent to Conclave to spy on the proceedings so the fault of my death would be on shemlen."_ , she explained matter-of-factly.  
"It's not a curse, it is a blessing." , Abelas replied. "There were many like you in Arlathan, priestesses of the twins. They helped, when the burden of immortality became too much, and wounds of the soul needed healing. And if their skill of Dirthamen's chosen was not enough, those belonging to Falon'Din guided the elders back from Beyond after they had rested in uthenera. That was, of course, before Falon'Din grew mad with his desire for power."  
Her purple eyes were staring at him, not believing his words.  
 _"It is a curse."_ , she said, helpless.  
Abelas shook his head.  
"It is not. It is a heavy duty to bear, but all gifts from the gods are like that.", he said, taking her hand in his. "If not for your help, I would be little more than a ghost, broken by burden of my years. I am in your debt for saving me."  
 _"No. I don't wish to chain you to duty and service again, not after I saw what it did to you."_ , Sulehn said, her words firm. _"You have endured enough, Abelas. You are entitled to happiness and freedom like any other being. I would be honored to count you as my friend, instead. You gave me my voice back, and you are my secret accomplice in my nefarious deeds of blood magic._ "  
Her eyes twinkled as she smiled at him.  
"Maybe a moment of leisure would not be amiss, lethallan.", he gave in against his better knowledge. "The durgen'len asked me to join for a game of something called Wicked Grace in tavern and made an odd pun about Chantry mothers praying I would end up like Commander Cullen."  
Sulehn put her hands on her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle.  
"It is not kind to make jokes and not let others join in, Sulehn.", Abelas reproached. "But I will see soon enough myself. Come with me."

 

It was late already, and Abelas decided it would be best to head straight to tavern. He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked through the main hall and down the stairs to yard. It was one of the good things he missed from the temple; simple gestures of friendship exchanged with others sharing his fate. Sulehn looked at him, smiling, and Abelas felt light, peaceful, as he pushed open the tavern door.

 

"Is this truly the goal of this game?", Abelas asked curiously after Josephine had thrown her cards on the table, victorious smile on her lips. Cullen cursed and took off his underpants, the last piece of clothing he wore.  
"Of course!", Blackwall exclaimed. "It's hilarious, and Cullen never learns."  
"But why to play for clothes, when they don't even fit well?"  
"Played in Antivan style, Wicked Grace is a game of sexual innuendo.", Dorian grinned. "One day, Bull, I learn your tells and you will share Commander's walk of shame."  
"I see. You find this fun because you have been raised to hide and shame your bodies?", Abelas queried. "Mother Giselle has offered to explain the concept of nudity in your culture to me, but I didn't think it was necessary."  
The Inner Circle exploded in laughter, all except Sulehn. Abelas bore it with dignity, and asked:  
"What amuses you so?"  
"Mother Giselle.", Iron Bull said, wiping tears of laughter from his scarred face. "The woman is trying to bed you. Every time you train on the yard, she is there to complement your skills, and when you threw your shirt away today, she almost fainted. "  
"Her questions if there is room in my heart for Maker sound rather different from this angle.", Abelas allowed. "And she keeps touching, but I thought your priests were not allowed to pursue others."  
"Chantry mothers do not marry. But casual relationships and sex are allowed.", Cassandra told him.  
"Ah. So sex and bonding are separate things in this Age?", Abelas asked.  
"Who you love has little to do with whom you are married to, especially in higher circles. You are perfectly allowed to bed people just for fun. So if you slip in Mother Giselle's bed on your way back to keep tonight, she will thank the Maker on her knees.", Dorian grinned.  
"Maker _and_ you.", Iron Bull added, and the laughter erupted again.  
"Was it very different for you old folks?", Varric asked.  
"Commonly those wishing to court another gave a gift of skill.", Abelas said slowly. "Whatever was best and brightest of their talent. It was not just a gift, but a promise of what future would hold."  
"It's so romantic.", Cassandra sighed.  
"I could make you a really big fireball, Iron Bull.", Dorian said sarcastically. "Would you like that?"  
"If you plant it on a huge dragon, I'm all for it, kadan.", Iron Bull grinned.

 

Next morning Abelas was making his way to training grounds as the dawn broke. The Inquisitor was already there with Sera, practicing on archery range. Abelas had noted that they weren't bad archers, considering they both had to be in their late twenties. It was a surprising talent for a mage of this age, but Sulehn had explained that since her curse had made her unfit to become First or Second, she had gotten only rudimentary training in magic and had served as a hunter instead. Most of her magic was self-taught, a curious mixture of unconventional spells and things she had picked up from watching other mages.

What made the scene unusual was the fact that the women looked very pleased with themselves, and rising at the crack of dawn was not something they usually rejoiced in. Sera, in particularly, was practically hopping with evil glee.

"Hello, Abelas.", Sera greeted him. "Did you come to flex your muscles for your admirers again?"  
"I do no such thing.", he replied. "What did you do, Sera?"  
"Inky, do you know what he is talking about?", Sera asked, grinning.  
Sulehn shook her head, looking as innocent as a newborn halla. She had bags under her eyes, and she yawned as she drew the bowstring taut. Her fingers were stained with paint. It was not uncommon for her. Abelas had seen the bedroom wall Sera liked to call "Adventures of Coryfish". Personally, Abelas wasn't keen on stick figure art but Sera adored them.  
"Your aim is shitty, Inky. Go to sleep.", Sera ordered. "I don't want you to shoot me on leg."  
"She is right, lethallan.", Abelas said. "You only do your skills harm if you continue with your mind elsewhere.  
"Sulehn sighed, rubbed her eyes and nodded. She had just left, when mother Giselle arrived, looking very distraught. The priestess interrupted Abelas' morning katas.  
"Excuse me, but have you seen my door?"  
"What?"Abelas asked.  
"My door. Someone stole the door leading to my room when I slept.", mother Giselle said, wringing her hands.  
"I didn't do it.", Sera said happily. "Wasn't it the old, creaky one made from some elfy tree?"  
"It was mythalwood, not an elfy tree.", Abelas corrected.

 

The mystery of mother Giselle's missing door was the topic of gossip for whole week. Abelas thought it told much about the current, peaceful state of the world. Although the wild theories circulating around Skyhold were amusing, the whole thing was beneath his notice. Abelas continued as before. He trained, helped the Inquisition with various tasks, and tried his best to learn how to navigate the world around him.  
The coronation of Divine was two weeks away. It would mean the disbanding of Inquisition as well. It was no longer needed. For Abelas, the concept of gathering power only to let it go was odd and unfamiliar, because elvhen gods had never done anything like that, but mother Giselle explained it was one of the things why Inquisition of old had been so admired. He thought over it, not entirely convinced, but it was not his choice to make.  
The members of Inner Circle had their own duties to carry now that Corypheus had been defeated, and the last remaining red templars dealt with. Dorian was going back to Tevinter, Varric wanted to return to Kirkwall and Iron Bull was drowning in job offers. Only skeleton crew would be left to hold Tarasyl'an te'las. Abelas had been asked to join Iron Bull's company, and Cassandra had offered him a place with Divine's Knight-Enchanters, but he had not decided what he would do. He knew his old hurts were well enough healed to start a new path, but none of available options felt right.

He knew what he would like, but wasn't sure if it was an option or a dream. He had waited for weeks, months to be sure, but his thoughts did not change, and now he was running out of time. Ironic concept for immortal man. Abelas shook his head, sighing, as he crossed the garden on his way to main keep and Inquisitor's quarters.

There were uncommonly many people giggling as he walked by. Most of them were Chantry novices, so Abelas ignored them.  
"Happy!", Varric stepped on his way. "Have you seen mother Giselle's door? It has been returned during the night."  
"I do not make a habit of frequenting her quarters.", Abelas replied dryly.  
"You really should see this.", Varric insisted.  
Against his better knowledge, Abelas followed the dwarf. He was slightly nervous about task he had set for himself, and maybe postponing it for few moments would help him to focus better.  
The corridor leading to mother Giselle's room was full of people. Abelas could see Cassandra shaking her head slowly, a smile on her lips, and the mother Giselle herself, looking blushed and more than slightly embarrassed. Leliana giggled behind his hand while Cullen sighed, looking resigned. Sera laughed openly.  
"Make way, people!", Varric shouted. "You have all seen it, but Happy hasn't!"

Someone had painted his portrait on the door.

Abelas looked at it and blinked. The portrait was like a card from pack mages used for divinations. He looked serious, a bit sad, and held yellow zinnia flower in his gauntlets. It was him, down to smallest detail. Someone had spent long time painting this, with great care and skill.  
"This is.. perfect.", he said quietly, taking off his gauntlet and touching the uneven surface of painting. The paint was still a bit moist, and the tips of his fingers stained black.  
"We have many different theories about this. The card is Wheel of Fortune.", Leliana said. "The painter obviously thinks you are able to forge your own fate, and ends lead to new beginnings. But we don't know what the flower means."  
"Zinnia means remembrance, and the red ribbons symbolize blood.", Abelas said, shaken. "She says remembrance should not be a burden carried alone, but shared."  
"She?", Leliana asked, raising her eyebrows.  
"The Inquisitor.", Abelas said, turning away and pushing his way through the crowd.

 

 

Sulehn was standing on the balcony facing the mountains, silent as always. Her hands resting on the handrail were stained with colors. Golden, black, grey and bright red. It was a confession which was not needed, because he had known as soon as he saw the painting.  
Gently, Abelas traced the splashes of color with his fingertips and said:  
 _"There were other doors made from mythalwood in this keep, emma lath."_  
A smile rose on her face, making her purple eyes twinkle.  
 _"I know, ma sa'lath._ "  
 _"Now I have to steal it before some connoisseur of art takes it to Val Roeyaux. A door is very unpractical to carry when we go home. If you come with me?_ ", he asked.  
 _"To the Temple?"_  
He shook his head.  
 _"There is a place for us if we seek it, your friend said. I would go there, but if you wish to do something else, it can wait."_  
 _"No. Like the Dalish say, I will join your fate and accompany you to longest of roads, Abelas._ ", Sulehn said softly in his mind, and he bent to kiss her.


	4. Silence is golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulehn accidentally slips a few words during a private moment. Abelas may never live down the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The star constellation is based on this lovely drawing,  
> http://swevenfox.tumblr.com/post/108264136051/so-dont-hate-me-for-this-now-please-this

Sulehn had recently developed a certain admiration for multiculturalism of Thedas. It had started when Abelas had borrowed a piercing saw from Gatsi and solemnly marched to mother Giselle's room. Apparently ancient elves were very particular about their courting gifts, and now poor mother's door had neatly cut, painting-sized hole in the middle of it.   
That pleased Sulehn's Dalish sensibilities in turn, because her original choice had been either stealing mother Giselle's door or placing a curse totem in Giselle's bedroom. Sera had pointed out that nobody would get the meaning of rabbit skull with hay stuffed in eye sockets, so they had decided to take the door instead. No Dalish would attempt to get between two would-be-lovers after the interest had been publicly shown, and in Sulehn's opinion, their public kissing to hide blood magic should have been clear enough sign for any old, blind hahren. Ignoring something like that would only create discord among clan, and no Keeper would allow that to happen. Culturally, ancient elven courting worked quite well with Dalish customs.  


The third part, human courting, was a delight and a hardship. Delight, because her earlier partners had not been very interested in her pleasure, considering Sulehn had been something of a pariah among her clan, while Abelas had meticulous attention for detail. Sulehn had spent most of morning after in dreamy haze, dozing on her throne.   
"No time to sleep?", Dorian had asked with laughter in his voice.  
"Sleeping is entirely overrated", Sulehn had scribbled on a scrap of paper, smiling like a fool.  
"Good for you, Inquisitor. Good for you.", Varric said and stole the paper. Probably for his book.   
But it was a trial, as well, because Sulehn found keeping her silence increasingly difficult. Biting her lip worked only so long. And then, a week before the Inquisition was due to leave to Cassandra's coronation, it did not.

 

It was Abelas' fault, really. Through dedicated and very enjoyable study, he had found the right spot to touch just so, and Sulehn was sure she would die. She didn't mind. If she died right now, she would burst and fly to the sky, becoming a new star constellation. Abelas hummed under his breath, and magic spread from his long fingers. Sulehn drew a breath, the new sensation burning through her like an electric shock. Oh, cursed Dorian who had given Abelas-the-ancient-mage an idea of human courting! She would have cursed him some more, but she couldn't, because Abelas bent to kiss the weak spot on her neck and the magic was too much and--  
Sulehn's back arched and a breathless wail of pleasure escaped from her lips.  
"Oh, stars, Abelas!", she moaned, barely noticing it because she was seeing stars. Abelas did notice, because he smiled beautifully and silenced her with a kiss.

 

She thought it was all right. Few days passed in hurried preparation, and nothing seemed to be out of order. Dorian was prone to smiling every time he saw them, but it was understandable. Abelas had that effect on people. Look at Mother Giselle, for example. And Sulehn herself was a prime example.

The dark had come early, and sky was nice and bright. It promised good travelling weather for next day. There would be a morning vigil, and then they would leave for Cassandra's coronation, The journey to Val Royeaux and the whole ceremony in Grand Cathedral were planned down to every last detail. There were rules and prodecures about sharing rooms or carriages, and who could ride side by side, and Sulehn was ready to bet there were lists about who could speak to one another. None of them included the Inquisitor spending time with her lover. Ancient warrior-priests of elvhen goddess were not high on the guest lists of the faithful.

Sulehn was finishing the very last reports as Inquisitor, when she heard noise from the yard. People were shouting and laughing. Abelas put down the book he was reading and pushed open the balcony doors, stepping out to see what the commotion was about.

"Vhenan. Come and see.", he called after a minute. His voice was sounding a bit odd. Sulehn dropped her quill and stood up, stretching her shoulders.

She walked to his side, looking down. Dorian was standing on the yard with Varric and Iron Bull, gesturing towards sky. They all were howling with laughter. Feeling dread, Sulehn slowly lifted her gaze upwards, and then she saw it. 

 

The stars on the sky were aligned in perfect lines, creating an outline of hood and the shape of a face. She might have lived through her shame if the faceless silhouette did not have Mythal's vallaslin on his forehead.   
Abelas stared at his likeness on sky, leaning against balcony rail. He sighed, shook his head lightly and said solemnly:  
"Emma lath, you _have to_ give some serious thought on how possessing the remains of Fen'Harel's power effects your own magic."  
 _"What?"_ , Sulehn asked, taking great care to use the bracelet.  
"The magic under your skin. It once belonged to Fen'Harel.", Abelas said, still looking at the sky. "One cannot mistake the magical signature of his foci. Not when it's blasted all over the sky."  
There were more people on the yard, now. Sulehn saw several Chantry mothers speaking to each other. They were arguing about something, pointing at the sky, but Mother Giselle silenced them. Sulehn couldn't quite heard what she said, but when Mother Giselle's voice rose in a song, Sulehn's eyes widened. She knew that cursed song. She had heard it once before. Oh, _no_.  Other Chantry mothers joined in, and then the novices, and even Cassandra. After Cassandra, the song spread like wildfire through the yard. No, no, no!

The song  was "Dawn will come."   



	5. Fen'Harel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A horrific case of mistaken identity.

Abelas had not ever held a high opinion on shemlen religion, but the idea that he was the Maker was beyond ridiculous. Unfortunately, not all shems shared his opinion.

  
_"Shouldn't they call you the Maker? You made it, with three words.",_ Abelas pointed out. He felt slightly unwell, listening at the religious fervor below.   
_"What we need to do is leave, now. Before the word of Mother Giselle's little cult gets out. There were enough humans eager to kill a heretical elf who was called the Herald of Andraste, but what would they do to elf who was said to be Maker?"_ , Sulehn shivered. _"I mean it, Abelas."_  
 _"I agree. I will have a word with Cassandra to make this right, and we will leave immediately after that."_ , Abelas said. 

Sulehn knew writing notes was not sufficient in emergency like this. She had to take advantage from new capabilities of repaired bracelets. Solas had mentioned not being familiar with blood magic because it interfered with Fade, but it was different for Abelas.   
"Most followers of _Dirth'ena Enasalin_ studied blood magic at one point or another.", he had explained. "The goal of our art was always gaining victory, using the mind to shape the body into perfect weapon. Having the option to replenish mana could mean difference between life and death. We were weapons of Mythal, and she owned our lives."  
His words had made Sulehn sad. She understood his dedication, and admired it, but she could see all too clearly what it had cost him. He shouldn't have to shoulder another burden like that, ever again. Especially not for Mother Giselle and her ridiculous cult.   
Abelas was the reason why Sulehn had encouraged disbanding the Inquisition. She did not want to have people serve Inquisition until they had no life beyond their duty, until they were broken and bent under their dead cause. She wanted nobody call himself a weapon of the Inquisitor. There was no need for that any longer. 

_"Give your bracelet. Only option left now is to take advantage of that idiotic rumor Leliana has spread for years. The one that I can't speak except when it is message from Andraste herself"_ , Sulehn commanded.  
"Are you serious?", Abelas asked out loud, stepping away from the balcony and pulling her with him. "You cannot march in the middle of shemlen religious fervor with blood running down your hands!"  
 _"You have worked hard for your freedom."_ , Sulehn said, her violet eyes blazing. _"I will not see humans take it away because I made a mistake. You will not be bound like I was._ "  
Abelas looked at her, and thought the vallaslin of Dirthamen was ill-chosen for her. His lover was a disciple of Fen'Harel, with or without the anchor. Wordlessly, he took the bracelet off his wrist and gave it to Sulehn.

She put the bracelets on her wrists and braced herself, starting to cast the spell. Abelas had once witnessed a priestess of Dirthamen speaking, and he believed that she had used the bracelets to do it. After series of trials and errors, Sulehn and Abelas had finally figured out a way to circumvent her curse, which Abelas stubbornly called her gift. If she wore both bracelets, letting them leek her blood, the artifacts could suppress the curse momentarily and hold the song at bay. It was not something to be done lightly, because the bracelets were made for elvhen of old, not her weaker, smaller body. Extended usage could kill her. Sulehn found it ironic - suicide by speaking? Dirthamen really had _issues_ with people telling his secrets - but it should be safe enough for few hours at least. She didn't need that long to walk to the yard and make a divine announcement about Abelas  not being the Maker. 

"Does it work?", Abelas asked, interrupting her thoughts.  
The constant trickle of blood felt odd, and Sulehn was sure she could hear the bracelets humming a melody. She wet her lips nervously and then opened her mouth to speak.  
"I will go and fix this. I'll lock the both doors leading here with the anchor, and you will stay there. My arcanist claims the anchor acts as a key, and now we'll see if it is true.", Sulehn said, her voice melodious but firm. She started to put on her armor. Leather and chain mail would help to hide the small trickles of blood better than the hated beige outfit Josephine had given her to wear in Skyhold. 

"There is a secret passage from Solas' room. It leads under the Skyhold, and path goes from there to outside. I found it by accident, and Solas advised not to tell others about it in case the business with orb being elven would escalate and we needed a way to escape Skyhold. Stay away from the balcony. I will come to get you as soon as they are distracted, and then we'll leave", Sulehn ordered.  
She turned away, grabbed her staff from the corner and strode out. Abelas saw the flash of green magic from the other side of the door, and then she was gone.

 

 

 

Sulehn was seething with fury as she ran down the stairs. She had enough of that conniving old bat trying to steal her man. Undoubtedly Mother Giselle had all kinds of ideas of playing high priestess to Abelas' Maker, but Sulehn would not see them pass. It was time that Mother Giselle was introduced to other side of Dalish courting culture - the part where Sulehn would play the game of Fen'Harel's teeth with her if the revered mother didn't give up.  
She locked the lower door leading to stairway and her quarters with anchor. The skin on her hand flared green sparkles, but Sulehn grit her teeth together and held on until she was sure nobody would get through it.

 

The people were still singing when she reached the halfway point of long stairs. She hit her staff on the ground, using her magic to echo the sound from courtyard walls.  
"Stop it!", she shouted, her voice loud and clear. "Our Blessed Lady herself commands you to stop your heretical invocation of false gods. You, of all people, should stay true to Chant and the faith of the Maker!"

It was satisfying to see the effect of her words on the people. The song was cut short as everyone turned to watch her. Even her companions looked slack-jawed listening at her speak.  
"The Maker is not revealed to us. We are not fit to see his true face, not while the world is full of injustice and suffering.", Sulehn continued. She was getting on the mood. She could see the tall form of Abelas in the darkest corner of her balcony.  
"But there is an elf on the sky!", Cassandra exclaimed.  
"The image of an elf was sent to you as a reminder, as I was sent to serve Andraste's Herald. Andraste herself fought with Shartan on her side, and Our Lady is grieved to see how easily her faithful have forgotten those who died for her, denying Shartan's very existence and taking away the boons of freedom and home Andraste held so dear.", Sulehn announced. "I stand here, given the gift of speech to tell you that Chantry must not be a political tool used only create oppression. Faith is a gift, which is best used to champion the downtrodden, fight for the enslaved, and give freedom for all! Our Blessed Lady died for her cause! If you are not willing to give your all to save the innocent people of Thedas, are you worthy of serving her?"  
Cassandra's face was pale, and two bright red spots burnt on her cheeks.  
"You are right. You speak the words of Andraste herself. She is the voice for those who have no speech, so says the Chant. We must rebuild Chantry to reflect her original purpose of protecting the innocent and helping those in need."  
Sulehn sighed with relief as the people kneeled down on the yard, bowing their heads in quiet reverence. Now she only needed to slip away, and they would leave quietly, and--

 

Then the doors to main keep opened with loud bang, and something walked down the stairs.  
"Fen'Harel. You are once again playing your old games with barbarians?", a chiming voice said in King's tongue, and Sulehn turned to look.

It was an elven woman, holding a bow. She was as tall as Abelas, but horrifying in her perfect beauty. She had little bells in her hair, and they tingled as she walked. Her face was bare, not touched by vallaslin. There was something bloodthirsty in her smile as she looked at Sulehn.  
"I have to say, Fen'Harel, this is one of your best disguises so far. A body of a woman, and complete with the markings of our brother Dirthamen! We've searched your magic for months, now, and we would never have found you if you hadn't so kindly written your name on the sky for me!"   
"I am not Fen'Harel.", Sulehn said, with cold setting in her bones. "I have nothing to do with Lord of Nightmares."  
"Tsk, tsk, Dread Wolf.", the woman said. "I know my favorite prey, and the power of foci inside your skin is proof enough. Elgar'nan is most anxious to have a word with you. As are the rest of us. We have had plenty of time to think about what you did to us, sealed away behind the mirror."

 Sulehn knew now was time to run. She lifted up her hand, to open a rift and slip away, but the moment she lifted up her hand to sky the woman - Andruil, her horrified mind supplied - was suddenly there next to her, holding her hand in iron grasp.   
"Let go of Herald!", Dorian shouted.   
"Yes! Let go of her, or you will die!", Cassandra shouted, looking like a hero from some ancient tale.  
Andruil laughed.  
"Are these shemlen so eager to die for you, brother? I will grant them the chance to sacrifice themselves, since they seem to crave so much, but I will attend to you first. The eldest of the Sun waits, Fen'Harel. It's time you paid for your crimes.", Andruil promised and a hungry magic hit Sulehn's body.  
Sulehn screamed as unimaginable pain ripped through her, and the goddess laughed again. Then Andruil made a Fade step, yet much longer one than Sulehn ever could, bringing them in front of Morrigan's Eluvian.   
"Our brethren wait for us, brother.", Andruil told Sulehn, and pulled her through the mirror. 

 


	6. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulehn sells her voice.

Sulehn was feeling light-headed and more than a bit dizzy after the latest pain spell Andruil had gifted her with. For once she didn't mind at all that she couldn't speak ancient elvish, because as soon as they had left Skyhold, Andruil had switched languages. By the look on goddess' face, she was probably making blood-curling threats, but Sulehn didn't understand any of it. Her vocabulary had never been large to begin with, and it included mostly endearments Abelas whispered. Andruil didn't use those words.

She had never been particularly religious person. As far as Sulehn was concerned, elves didn't need gods. Getting cursed before birth was unfair fate, no matter what her Keeper had said about showing proper respect to Creators. Sulehn had been more than ready to accept Solas' view on elvhen gods as petty and cruel, and she wasn't too keen on the Maker either. The experience of getting kidnapped by Andruil only strengthened her view. 

Being accused of being Fen'Harel was an absurd way to die. But if Andruil was mad enough to think a mortal elven woman with Dirthamen's vallaslin was Fen'Harel in disguise, nothing Sulehn could say or do would convince the goddess to change her mind. If the gods really had been locked away for eons, they were probably itching to get their hands on Dread Wolf. Trying to be reasonable hadn't worked on Corypheus, and Sulehn doubted it would work on Andruil or her brethren. 

If one had to die, she could at least choose how. Andruil's rough treatment had hurt her badly enough to appreciate her impeding doom by blood magic. Blood loss was not a bad way to go. To give herself as much time as possible, she stopped walking and made Andruil drag her by arm. Pulling a limp, bleeding enemy behind her seemed to please Andruil; at least she had stopped hurting her. 

 

 

Andruil threw her through another eluvian, and Sulehn landed on the floor with a grimace. The old habit of not uttering a sound still held, and she curled into a ball, waiting for pain to go away. She heard the chiming of little bells when Andruil followed her, and felt fear. If she survived this, if there was any way to survive this, Sulehn knew she would be afraid of that sound for the rest of her life.  
She rose on her knees, pushing a hand on the ground to tentatively test if she could stand up. The room around her was dark, silent, and a large, square pool of water near them reminded her of.. She had been here before. This was Dirthamen's temple at Free Marches, the same place where she had collected the body parts of Highest One to fight and banish him. Solas had found her bracelets from under that very altar.  
Her thoughts were crudely interrupted by a kick on her back, which made her fell down and hit her face against floor. Her nose hurt horribly, and Sulehn stifled a sob, biting her lip as the tears fell down on her face.  
"Enough, Andruil.", a quiet voice said from the darkness. "Step aside and wait, until I have further orders for you."

Sulehn was pushing herself on her knees again, when she saw another elf - or something - appearing from the shadows. He was dressed in shadows, or so it looked like. His robe was made of thousand different shades of white, grey and black, which darkened or brightened on their own volition, making it impossible to discern true color. His black hair was neatly tied on a single braid on his neck, and his eyes were purple. Looking him in the eye made Sulehn feel unwell, and she turned her gaze away. The pebbles on the floor were safer option, and she fixed her gaze on them.   
"You hold your secrets well.", a voice said to her, and it took a moment before Sulehn understood that he had not spoken aloud. Dirthamen. He had to be Dirthamen.  
"Take your curse away.", she pushed the words out from her lips, feeling a warm gush of blood going out with them. "I don't want it. I never wanted it."  
"What good it will do to you to give up my gift if you fall dead on the floor immediately after?", he replied without words, his pleasant baritone ringing in her mind. "These days, I do not have so many priests that I would let them to wander to Beyond just because they insist."  
He snapped his fingers, and Sulehn felt the bracelets on her arms to snap as well. The spell tingling on her skin stopped abruptly, and the parts of metal felt loose. She took the glove off her hand, and the bracelet fell on the floor, neatly broken in three parts. The second bracelet was much the same, the inscription scarred and cut beyond recognition. The runes were ruined, blood still glistening on the gold, and Sulehn burst into tears. He had taken her voice away.

  
"Still, you hold your silence.", Dirthamen noted soundlessly. "Good. But there is more I want from you, and I'm willing to bargain. You have a secret of your own."  
"I don't want it!", Sulehn screamed inside her mind.  
"It is not a question of want, but need.", Dirthamen said serenely. "Think of it as a reward for freeing your god, albeit indirectly. There is always a way out, even from strongest prisons, if one knows what to seek. The priests here became mad with their fear, imprisoning the Highest One, who held the greatest secret of them all. When you, a ragtag priestess but priestess of mine nonetheless, corrected their mistake and resurrected him, I woke up. After that, it took only little time to find my way out and back into this ruined world."  
Sulehn drew a sharp breath. To be responsible for letting this.. creature, god, mage, whatever he was, return? What about the rest of them?  
"Andruil has never been of strongest mind.", Dirthamen replied to her unspoken question. "She was quite mad before Fen'Harel locked us away, and sleeping behind the mirrors didn't do her any good. But she is a useful tool now, a thrall who does my bidding while I pull her strings from the shadows. She genuinely thinks you are Fen'Harel, and now she is enjoying a fantasy where Elgar'nan and she kill you for betraying us. Secret of enforcing madness already there is easy, if one knows how. But it is not for you. There is another secret I want you to give me."  
Sulehn looked at him warily.  
"You hold the remains of Fen'Harel's foci inside your skin.", Dirthamen continued. "It is a key to releasing the rest of my brethren. I am not in a hurry, since there is much to do before the world is ready for their return. The power cannot be taken from you while you live, but it will die with you. If you give me the secret of opening that door, I will withdraw my blessing from you for your lifetime, as you wish."  
"You want my body when I die?", Sulehn asked.  
"No. I merely want your last living moment. It is sufficient. As a part of our bargain, I will not haste your death. Being mortal that you are, thirty, forty years are just a blink of an eye. I've cast spells which took longer than that."  
"I agree.", Sulehn said, a melody escaping her lips. "You will have my last living moment, and you will take away your blessing for my lifetime."  
"So it shall be.", Dirthamen agreed. "Be wary, however. Mother Giselle, who has given you so much trouble, is not a shemlen. She is a spirit of envy in disguise."  
The god bent down to kiss her brow. The touch of his lips was freezing, and Sulehn felt her world starting to spin around, round, until everything was just a whirl and the oddest feeling of something being pulled away, like winding yarn.

 


	7. Templar's kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulehn swears off religion. Mother Giselle is revealed!

Abelas didn't wonder why elves of this age died so young. How they could not, when the events of their lives tore their heart in mere seconds? First, mad shemlen deciding that he was their absent god, and mere minutes later, a true goddess of Sacrifice returning out of nowhere and blaming his lover for being Fen'Harel?  
The door didn't budge. Sulehn had locked it with Fen'Harel's divine power, and Abelas soon understood it was useless. His eyes felt prickly as he took the supplies they had packed for a journey and walked to balcony. Abelas knew there was nothing he could do. He had seen many times what happened when one of the gods decided to take somebody. If the patron god of stolen elf stepped in and demanded compensation, she might be given back, but Abelas wasn't even sure who was Sulehn's patron. She had Dirthamen's marks and blessing, but she was close to Fen'Harel and called him friend. Even if he had known how to reach Fen'Harel, it would be too late to save Sulehn from Andruil's revenge. But he had to try.

 

Abelas walked down from the balcony, his magic creating steps as he descended. The shemlens were arguing on the yard, their voices angry and confused.   
"There are too many gods here now!", Dorian was yelling. "Try to make up your mind! First you say that Abelas is the Maker, which is ridiculous idea, and then when the Inquisitor tells you are heretics, an elf appears out of nowhere and blames her for being the Dread Wolf!"  
"This is shitty!", Sera wailed. "Elfy gods are demons! No way our Inky is a demon!"  
"I think we have had enough divine omens tonight..", Leliana's voice cut through the commotion. "Tomorrow we're leaving to Val Royeaux to Divine's coronation, and the rumors of heresy will weaken the Chantry enormously!"  
Mother Giselle smiled kindly and was just going to answer, when the shadows in the corner of the yard moved. Sulehn stood there, her face bloody and bruised. She was leaning heavily on her staff and limping as she walked slowly forwards, but she was alive. Abelas ran.

 

"What happened to you, emma lath? How did you escape?", he asked frantically, embracing her. She smelled of blood and magic, but she was alive, and Abelas held her tightly, murmuring a prayer to Mythal. The Great Protector be praised.   
"Ah. Fen'Harel returns.", mother Giselle said acidly.  
"This farce has been going on for long enough.", Sulehn said, withdrawing from Abelas. "Cullen. I remember you said that you memorized litany of Adralla after the abominations took the Circle of Ferelden?"  
"That is true.", Cullen said warily.  
"I am not Fen'Harel, and Abelas is certainly not the Maker, but mother Giselle is envy demon in disguise, trying to sow discord in the Inquisition. To prove my words, I am willing to stand and let you to recite the litany over the three of us. It will reveal the truth for once and for all.", Sulehn said firmly.  
"I agree. This cannot go on.", Cassandra said.  
"I will not be accused like this!", Mother Giselle said. "We do not need Litany of Adralla to find out the truth, when we saw the truth with our own eyes. One of heretical gods claimed you as their own!"  
"If I was Fen'Harel, I would have bitten your head off by now.", Sulehn snapped. There was a blackish blue mark on her brow, like a frostbite, and Abelas could feel it emanating magic.  
"We will do as the Inquisitor said.", Cassandra decided. "Soldiers, take them."  
"You will not banish me!", mother Giselle shouted, and suddenly she turned into monster.

 

The fight was chaotic. Abelas pushed Sulehn behind him for safety, and she sank against the wall, feeling dizzy. She was in no shape to fight. The journey back to Skyhold had been hard enough. It didn't take more than a single barrier thrown over Cassandra facing the demon and she started see black spots dancing before her eyes. So she watched Abelas instead, feeling ridiculously safe between his back and the wall. Sulehn fully understood why Envy would have wanted him; only surprising thing was that Skyhold wasn't full of Desire demons too, since watching Abelas fight was a thing of beauty. She must have had a foolish smile on her face, because Abelas turned to look at her with a solemn expression:  
"Are you all right?", he asked.  
"No.", Sulehn said, marveling at his thighs. Dorian was right; she really should paint him naked.  
Abelas shook his head, his lips pressing into thin, worried line. The fight had to end, now. He drew his blade and calculated the distance between him and demon. Abelas rushed through the fade, using momentum to crash against the demon. The long limbs of Envy gave the demon a long reach but a fragile balance, and it had not expected someone to come so close. Envy reeled, giving Abelas the opening he needed. He ignored the claws scratching the metal of his armor, and snapping teeth. Collecting his strength for a single blow, Abelas whispered a wordless prayer to Mythal as his blade beheaded Envy.

 

 

"Haven't we had enough of this foolishness?", Abelas asked acidly from Cassandra and Cullen who had followed him to Inquisitor's quarters. The templar had already recited his litany twice, and Sulehn's face was white as snow. At least the parts which were not covered in blood. She laid on the bed, eyes open and the feeling of magic still emanating from the mark on her brow. Although there was a lot of blood, most of her injuries were minor. The reason for her silence was a wound of spirit, not a body. Abelas recognized the bewildered expression on her face, having seen it in a mirror once. She had been touched by a god.  
"There are things we must discuss-", Cassandara began, but Abelas interrupted her.  
"She is not in a state to discuss anything, Seeker. You will have your answers tomorrow, but if you delay me from tending her injuries for much longer, she will bleed to death while you watch."  
"He is right.", Cullen said, while Cassandra made a disgruntled noise. Commander looked at Sulehn with pity in his eyes and then turned to Abelas, saying in neutral voice: "I will post guards to the main hall to watch your door. And under the balcony."  
Abelas understood, and nodded to Cullen as he left with angry Divine. The Commander returned his nod. It was unsaid farewell. The hole in the corridor between Inquisitor's room and the main hall would be their way out.

As soon as Cullen closed the door and left them alone, Abelas pulled the her sleeves down to remove the bracelets. But they weren't there; he saw only bare skin marred with dried blood and blooming bruises. She should not have been able to speak.  
"What happened to you?", he asked quietly.  
"I can't talk about it.", Sulehn whispered.  
Abelas looked at her unadorned wrists, and the mark on her brow.  
"It does not matter.", he said solemnly, swearing it as much for her as for himself. "We must leave now, emma lath. We have to be far from Skyhold when the dawn rises."  
Sulehn was exhausted, he could see, but she pushed herself up nonetheless.  
"Yes, vhenan.", she said, reaching for bedside table and opening a bottle of healing potion. "I have had my fill of religion. If I die without seeing another god, a Chantry mother or any divine messenger, I'll be happy."

 

 

Commander Cullen had personally taken to guard the best vantage point on the battlements. One could see miles away from there. He had told his men that he couldn't sleep. Most of them knew of his history with abominations, and nobody grudged a night shift in any case.  
It was maybe a hour after midnight when he saw what he had been waiting for. Two small shapes in the distance, walking towards north. Their shadows were black in the bright moonlight. They stopped briefly on a high spot, and Cullen could see the smaller shadow waving at him. He waved back and smiled as he saw them disappearing behind next mountain.  
"May Andraste protect you, Inquisitor.", he said softly to himself.


	8. The end of journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas and Sulehn seek for a new future.

"Where do you want to go?", Sulehn asked as they stood at the crossroads.  
Abelas considered. He had originally thought of searching for the place Fen'Harel had spoken of, but after the fiasco at Skyhold, he was no longer certain if that was what he wanted. The mark on Sulehn's brow was a visible scar. Although she had not spoken about what had been done to her, Abelas knew the first place where the Huntress would look for her was with the elvhen. He could go there, but she could not follow. The elvhen would have welcomed her for her song, but without it, Sulehn was just another Dalish shadow to them.  
"I don't know.", he replied honestly. "It feels odd not to have a purpose."  
"Not every purpose is a task to be performed, Abelas.", she said. "You are not meaningless simply because your duty has ended."  
His golden eyes were warm as he looked at her.  
"We could go to nearest harbor. I have never seen the ocean."  
"Truly?", Sulehn asked.  
"Yes.", Abelas admitted. The slaves in service of Mythal had no reason to travel.  
"This will be refreshing change, then.", Sulehn remarked lightly. "Finally something the Dalish know better than you. I have travelled through most of the Southern Thedas with my clan."  
"I assure you, the knowledge of ancients is supreme in the matters of geography.", Abelas replied smugly, enjoying their banter.  
"I doubt that. You might have seen eluvian or two, maybe a dozen, but missed all the places between.", Sulehn said and took his hand, twining her fingers with his. Together, they chose the road leading east.

 

The ocean didn't agree with Abelas. He found it hard to believe at first; he was generally not the one to pay attention to slightly queasy feelings. But the nausea didn't go away even though he ignored it, and after the land disappeared from sight, things got worse.  
The ship captain mentioned something about good east wind which would speed their way to port. Abelas thought it sounded hopeful, meaning the journey would be over sooner than he had anticipated. But he had not quite grasped what it meant in reality. Captains definition of "good east wind" meant wind howling in his ears and rain beating mercilessly on the deck, while the sea _heaved_. Oh, Creators, it was horrible. Setting his sight on the horizon was impossible when the waves kept crashing against the ship, and sometimes they went over the deck, taking away everything which was not fastened tight.  
"It's a bit rough tonight, isn't it?", the first mate grinned at Sulehn. He was soaked through but smiling as he held ship wheel. Abelas could not understand these shemlen. Anyone who enjoyed sickening feeling like this was clearly insane.  
"This isn't too bad.", Sulehn replied. She was unfazed by rocking sea. "It was much worse when I crossed from Free Marches to Storm Coast."  
"I didn't take you elves for a seafaring type. But I hope your friend finds his sea legs soon, because there is storm coming from the south, and it will push us halfway through the Amaranthine Ocean before you know it."

The storm the shemlen had promised started on the next night.  
"You will feel better if you come out to deck. Fresh air helps.", Sulehn said patiently.  
"I did not leave the Temple of Mythal to be washed into sea filled with Ghilan'nain's monsters.", Abelas replied, holding a pillow over his head to keep the swinging lantern out from his sight. If he concentrated and kept his eyes shut, he could almost fool himself to believing the cabin wasn't moving.  
"I can ask if the cook has ginger. I've heard it helps to seasickness.", Sulehn offered and stood up, but Abelas sneaked his hand under the pillow and captured her wrist.  
"You will not leave me to die alone.", he stated. "You _promised_. "  
His voice came out weaker than he had planned, making his plea sound more like a whining, but Sulehn sat down again. Her fingers caressing his scalp were cold and made him feel marginally better.  
"Your hair is growing.", she noted. "I thought you didn't have any."  
"It's a side effect from uthenera.", Abelas told her, trying his hardest to concentrate on anything but the lurching feeling. "The body turns inwards, sustaining only what is necessary to survival. Since I no longer slumber, I-- Oh, by Fen'Harel's teeth!"  
He bolted out from the cabin, and through the open door, Sulehn saw Abelas bending over the side of the ship as he emptied his stomach. She shook her head and wondered if she should tell him that the first mate had predicted the storm would last for three days.

"Are you sure?", the captain asked as the ship sailed into port. "Llomerryn is not a safe place for a pretty young things like your wife, and you paid me to take you all way to Antiva City."  
"I once refused a fortune teller there, and she ran our lot out of town.", the first mate added. "It's a den of pirates and criminals."  
"I don't care.", Abelas said resolutely, crossing his arms over his chest. "We will end our journey here."  
"Be it on your own head, then.", captain shrugged. "I did warn you."

 

Llomerryn was all they had been warned about and more, but frankly, Abelas didn't care. He was relieved to feel the ground beneath his feet once more even if it was a muddy and smelled of ale and piss. He would not board a ship ever again unless Mythal herself told him to.  
The shemlen here were different from those in Tarasyl'an Telas. In Skyhold, the shemlen scurried around like ants carrying out their tasks, true to their quickened nature. But in Llomerryn humans were either drunk and noisy or sharp and silent shadows trying to cut purses from the former group.  
Abelas moved a bit closer to Sulehn as they walked along the muddy trails between shaggy houses, making sure she stayed on his left. Left or right, it didn't make much difference to him after years of training, but he preferred wielding sword in his right hand when he fought with two blades. Dagger had shorter reach, and it could not be used effectively to warn the opponent away.  
"How big place this is?", Sulehn asked him. "Should we stop for a night or continue?"  
It was already turning dark, and Abelas had felt more than one pair of eyes watching them, assessing the value of their gear and weapons. Although he didn't believe there were shems capable of being true threat, accidents did happen, and he would not test their luck.  
"It would be better to seek shelter now, and continue when sun rises.", he replied. Since they didn't know which establishment was trustworthy and which wasn't, Abelas picked the first inn which was not built partially on the water. It was called "Song of Serpent", which sounded more promising than "Three-legged wench" on the other side of the street.

 

The innkeeper was an elderly lady, who had only few teeth left and all of them were golden. However, she agreed to rent a room for a night for Abelas and his 'lady friend' and offered fish soup made earlier on that day, since most of her customers were more interested in drinking than eating.  
The customers of inn were enlightened people, since all places against the wall were taken, and only the spots which offered less defensible positions were free. Abelas chose the least bad of them, and nodded to Sulehn, who followed him.

They ended up sharing a table with a lively Rivaini woman, who was drunk and didn't wear pants, but a tunic cut open from the sides and very long boots.  
"Usually the Dalish are bothered by my clothes. You aren't. You are an odd fish.", the woman said curiously.  
"It takes more than a little bit of bare thigh to bother me.", Abelas replied dryly. After a lifetime of serving a goddess of Love, there was little which could shock him. The fish soup was not poisoned, and the ground didn't move when he ate. Both were good things.  
"I think I know you from somewhere.", the woman continued, looking at Sulehn. "I'm notoriously bad with names, but never forget a pretty pair of eyes, especially.. Oh. Now I remember. You were the Dalish spy girl I picked up in Wycome!"  
"I didn't think you would remember, Captain Isabela.", Sulehn smiled.  
"I call myself Admiral Isabela, these days. So you can talk? I thought it was dreadfully curious when your Dalish approached me with a bag of coin and instructions to drop you to Ferelden, and you never spoke a single word during the whole trip. Until the Antivan pirates attacked, that was. I never forget that one."  
"I would appreciate if you kept your silence.", Sulehn said quickly. "I've changed careers, recently."  
"Oh, I see.", Isabela said lightly. "I'm not one to dig up the old things. But if you are still interested in permanent position on my ship, you'd be warmly welcomed. I pay well, my crew gets shore leave which is long enough to get drunk and suffer through hangover, and the side benefits are excellent."  
Sulehn looked at Abelas, eyes dancing:  
"What do you think, my love? I could be the dashing pirate queen and scavenge the seven seas to make a living for us. You could wait me faithfully on the shore."  
"A handsome man like him would have his uses on the ship, I think. Broody, coldly insolent and quietly smoldering at the same time. My favorite combination. I like them tall and lanky.", Isabela offered.  
"I think not.", Abelas said cuttingly. "And I am not lanky."  
Isabela was opening her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by a bar fight. There was a disagreement about spilled mead, and the culprit was retreating to a table behind Isabela's back. The wet man was brandishing his dagger, shouting insults and curses, and he threw the weapon. His aim, however, left much to wish for.

Isabela was no stranger to daggers. Although she didn't throw them, she could estimate the trajectory well enough to dodge. The man aimed too low, and he didn't have enough force behind his throw. The weapon would not reach the target behind Isabela's back, but it would hit--  
Isabela blinked as she saw the broody elven man reaching his left arm forwards and catching the flying dagger in his fingers before it hit the Dalish spy girl beside him. With a flick of his wrist, he threw it back to where it came from, neatly hitting the man in the middle of his throat.  
"I think it was time we retired.", he said calmly, like discussing a weather, and the woman nodded, not seeming disturbed at all. They rose up, oblivious to commotion around the dead man - dead men were common enough sight in Llomerryn, and it was not the death itself but the effortless way it was delivered which raised voices - and left upstairs.  
"I must talk to those elves in the morning. A business proposition. Remind me.", Isabela told her first mate Casavir, and ordered another tankard of mead.

 

"What do you think of Llomerryn?", Sulehn asked from Abelas in the darkness of their quiet room. The wards she had placed shone dimly, and she spooned with him in the narrow bed, pressing her face against his shoulder.  
"It is not a place I especially like, but it is a beginning. I'm certain we will find something better without leaving the island.", Abelas replied, feeling content. He twined his fingers with hers, and secretly revelled feeling her soft breaths on his skin. It was a tiny room in a very shady inn in the middle of the ocean, but first time in years, he felt curious to see what the future held. They were both free, now, free from their gods and from the Inquisition. Abelas didn't know what to do with it, but he had few ideas.  
"We could have ended up in worse place.", Sulehn said. "I remember reading that Rivaini don't believe in Maker and aren't Andrastians. They suffered through several Exalted Marches, but unlike the Dales, Rivain survived. The majority of them are still pantheists, believing in natural order."  
"I can be a pantheist.", Abelas replied, turning to face her. "Especially if it means no Chantry."  
"I agree.", she said, her words muffled by his lips seeking hers.  
"Only problem in not having a Chantry is that we have to find alternative options, since I would not invoke Creators in case they are listening. My people felt it was important to mark the changes and choices of one's life. We shed names, and took new ones. I would mark the beginning of this journey by taking yours.", he said.  
Abelas had considered this for a long time, ever since he saw Mother Giselle's door, and although his decision was rushed by the standards of his People, Abelas knew he didn't have luxury of time with her. Sulehn was a mortal, and Falon'Din would claim her in a blink of an eye. If Abelas had learned something during the years of his vigil, it had been that a grief born of words left unsaid, actions not taken, was always the bitterest to bear.  
"You propose me in a pirate den to celebrate our future in Llomerryn?", a lovely laughter bubbled in Sulehn's voice. "I always knew you were special, Abelas."  
"That was not an answer.", he remarked, confident enough in her warmth not to shy away.  
"Yes. Of course it's yes. I would say yes even if it meant I had to go back to Skyhold to do the deed under the watchful eyes of Divine Victoria, although I wouldn't want to. Seeing you suffer through another sea journey would be too much."  
"We shall avoid sailing at all costs.", Abelas nodded, and pulled her closer for another kiss.

 

"A wedding without religion? I'm your woman, and you aren't even the first couple I've married.", Captain Isabela said when she met the elves next morning. "It's usually done at sea, but I don't see why one couldn't do it on shore. Whatever floats your frigate."

 


	9. Building a life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas and Sulehn find employment in Llomerryn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theatre play was inspired by this video of Dalish ultimate sacrifice.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Pc_jQwNBjM

Although Isabela had seen "The Fifth Blight" three times already, tears blinded her eyes when the Warden stood with Alistair on the roof of Fort Dragon.  
"We both know how this ends.", Mahariel said, and Isabela heard a muffled sob from her left, one among the many. She could feel the chill radiating from her right, so she ignored it and focused on Alistair's voice:  
"I know how I feel about you. I won't let you die, not when I can do something about it."  
"Oh, Alistair", the Warden said, and Isabela tensed on her seat as she waited for her next line.  
Warden Mahariel kissed Alistair on the stage, and as she ended the kiss, she breathed in his ear:  
"I fear you have no choice."  
Her delivery always made shivers run down on Isabela's spine, and she loved the moment when Mahariel kneed the poor, unsuspecting king to incapacitate him. The king staggered backwards, while Mahariel turned away, and the music began. The melody spoke to Isabela, evoking feelings of desperation and bravery, and the female voice singing it was pure emotion poured over audience. Isabela felt a tap on her shoulder and passed her extra handkerchief to Varric sitting behind her, being careful not to turn her eyes away from the stage.

There was a two-handed sword laying on the ground, forgotten. Warden Mahariel looked at it, then at the archdemon, and Merrill on Isabela's left side had fisted her hands, her eyes red-rimmed with tears. As the music got louder, Mahariel started to run. She grasped the sword in her hands, a lean female elf facing the archdemon alone, and Isabela spared a quick glimpse on her right. Abelas' expression was odd. He was not crying, like most of the crowd, but Isabela noticed that he was too stiff, unmoving, as he watched the stage.   
Archdemon blood splattered all over the Warden, and when the dragon fell down, defeated, Mahariel breathed heavily and lifted up the sword, impaling the creature's head. The music reached crescendo, and Mahariel threw her head back when light encompassed her and the dragon. She writhed, trying to pull the sword out, and every fibre of her being spoke of unimaginable pain. Her companions looked at each other, shaking their heads and making moves to go and help her, but not daring to get any closer. The light grew stronger and stronger, and Mahariel fought desperately to pull out the sword, but then an explosion of light filled the stage and the theatre hall, and it was over.  
Isabela blinked, trying to adjust her vision after the light spell. The rest of the companions were still getting up, but the king ran to fallen Warden, calling her name but she did not answer. She would never answer. Isabela blew her nose and tried to swallow her tears as the king kneeled to gather his dead lover in his arms. The flames were burning behind them, and music was quiet enough to heard Alistair's whispered words:  
"And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. One day, I will join you."

 

Sulehn was still in actors' dressing room, washing blood and heavy stage make-up off her face, when the owner of Llomerryn theatre, Madame Elodie, came to congratulate her.  
"You were a wonderful Warden, my dear. Master Tethras just informed me that Dwarven Merchants Guild wants to make a sizable investment for my little establishment, and he wants to work Hard in Hightown into play exclusively for us! He is thinking of a musical!", Madame Elodie's face was flushed under the beauty powder. "You are too talented to waste in theatre choir, my dear. I never thought that Karissa eloping with Antivan woodcutter would be a blessing, but we've sold every seat this week, and Gana herself asked for a private performance. You will be famous!"  
Sulehn's face grew pale.  
"Madame Elodie, I don't want to be famous! I was perfectly happy composing the music for your plays."  
"What is it, my dear? Running away from your clan? An old flame, or a jealous husband? Unsettled business with city guard? I've seen it all.", Madame said soothingly. "It is not a problem here. We will invent a new past for you. Something enigmatic, much more interesting than seedy, ordinary problems. All you need to do is tell me what hunts you."  
"Me and my husband got into trouble with religion.", Sulehn said reluctantly.  
"Say no more.", the old woman put a finger on Sulehn's lips. "Mages and the Chantry. We will not have that foolishness in Rivain. There is no need for you to worry, dear. Just continue your magnificent work, and I will take care of the rest."  
The Madame hurried away in the cloud of perfume, heading to speak with the actor playing Alistair. Sulehn sighed, willing herself to calm down, and continued wiping Andruil's vallaslin off her face with a wet cloth.

Sulehn was almost finished, trying to squirm her way out from the leather skirt of Warden costume when she heard a familiar, solemn voice behind her:  
"That is the most pitiful armor I have ever seen.", Abelas said, disapprovement radiating from him as he stepped into light behind her. "Not even the Dalish would send someone into battle with bared midriff."  
"At least it is somewhat comfortable. Alistair's golden armor is way worse; a plaster cast and a lot of paint.", Sulehn said, pulling the skin-tight leather top over her head. "Hand me my dress, please. It's hanging from the coat rack."

"It's good to see you, master Abelas.", Juan, the doorkeeper said as he let them out. "Tonight has been restless; there are rumors of Ianto being a few souls short for his latest shipment to his Tevinter cronies. Best to keep your eyes open on your way home."  
"It is good to know, although it makes no difference.", Abelas answered coolly.  
"Thinking you could take the Talon's slavers alone if needed?", Juan grinned.  
"If needed, yes.", Abelas said.  
Juan shook his head, amused.  
"Whatever floats your frigate. Good night, you two."

"Isabela and Varric are waiting for us at Penelope's Pearl. Their Dalish friend, Merrill, would have wanted to come too but Isabela sent her to market with armed guards and a fat purse.", Abelas said as they left the main street. "Merrill was very taken with your performance."  
"What did you think of it?", Sulehn asked. She could tell something was bothering him. Although Abelas was serious by nature, and rarely let his lighter side to come out in public, he seemed more quiet than usually.  
"The audience was strongly affected by your gift. Although it's too faint for me to detect, some of it clearly leaks through the bindings, singing a siren song to people watching.", Abelas said.  
Sulehn waited, knowing he had not given her a full answer.  
"I don't want to see you die. Not even in a play.", he admitted quietly, his fingers reaching for hers.  
Sulehn closed her eyes. It was one thing which separated them. Time. When Abelas was tired and slept longer than usually, Sulehn grew worried. She didn't know if he had slipped into uthenera or if he was merely sleeping. Respectively Abelas fretted over her (supposed) fragility. There was no need for him to collect her from the work each evening; Sulehn had fought a thousand battles as the Inquisitor and could handle a few drunk idiots. But it eased his mind to do so, and Sulehn had to respect his fears. He respected hers, never complaining when her anxiety became too much and she climbed back to bed, running her fingers through his hair or along his back until he woke up. Usually he just whispered a few soothing words, and lured her to fall asleep with him.  
"If you must kill a dragon, I want you to choose a weapon you can actually use.", Abelas noted dryly. "Your grip was horrible. Never pick a weapon which is too heavy for you to hold steadily, otherwise you will get strained wrists and sore forearms."  
"Vhenan, it was a tragedy. You simply see it through different eyes.", Sulehn said, taking his arm.  
Abelas looked down at her, and a slight curve of his lips betrayed his amusement.  
"I agree. It was very tragic. Especially your armor. It would have made my brothers and sisters cry."

 

Penelope's Pearl was packed full. It was one of classier places of Llomerryn, meaning the customers didn't get sick for eating the food and one could actually drink a bottle of rum without getting knife in the kidneys inside establishment. Out in the street was different thing, of course.

"Happy! Violet!", Varric waved at them from a booth. "Come and sit down. Isabela is ordering drinks. She claims the liquors here are sweeter than Orlesian cakes."  
"Hawke sends his regards. He asked me to tell you that if you want, there is a place for you in Kirkwall. Much nicer city, Kirkwall. Smells of piss and mud, and mages tend to go mad, but it's classy unlike Llomerryn.", Varric chatted. He looked much happier than Sulehn remembered.  
"Thank Hawke for his offer, but we prefer Llomerryn.", Sulehn said politely.  
"Are you actually serious?", Varric asked, shaking his head. "I wasn't sure if Isabela was pulling a prank on me when she mentioned making new friends in Llomerryn. I understand why you decided to leave Skyhold, and I think it was good idea considering the verbal lashing Cassandra gave to Curly after you disappeared, but if you are planning to have a life and lots of elfy babies, this is hardly the place for it."  
"Who mentioned elfy babies?", Isabela asked as she carried two bottles of Antivan rum to table."I am just dying to become a godmother. It's customary, you know, and it's been _months_. Usually the people I marry don't keep me waiting for so long."  
"I didn't think you were religious enough to revere Mythal's proudest aspect, but as her servant, I'm obliged to assist. A blood binding is very serious, although I don't think you would necessarily die.", Abelas said, pouring himself a small glass of rum.  
"Is he joking?", Isabela asked, looking at others. "Please tell me he is joking."  
"With Happy, it's impossible to say. Just ignore him. He is so old that his mind starts to wander sometimes.", Varric advised.  
"You were the one who started talking about godmother, Isabela. Although the proper translation is All-Mother.", Abelas said.  
"Now he is just bugging you.", Varric shook his head.  
"This is how you repay me for setting you up with Gana of Llomerryn?", Isabela rolled her eyes dramatically. "I'm hurt, Abelas."  
"The arrangement benefits you greatly.", Abelas replied, unfazed. "Seers would not buy so many artifacts from you if I wasn't here to repair them."  
"But they have stopped buying the trash items!", Isabela whined. "I have to go all way to Orlais to sell those to noble collectors in Val Royeaux."  
"You enjoy cheating them out of their money.", Sulehn pointed out.  
"Well, yes. But Abelas is still unfair."  
"Happy is merely too wise to trust your shady dealings, Rivaini.", Varric sided with Abelas. "So you are working for the Gana?"  
"Isabela suggested I should offer to repair a spirit amulet Gana had. As you may recall, I have experience in fixing old items. Gana was very pleased to regain the use of her artifact and the word got around. Seers bring me items they have inherited or bought from Llomerryn markets. I enjoy restoring what was.", Abelas explained.  
"His business could be much lucrative if he didn't take so long time to finish anything.", Isabela complained. "It's lucky thing Sulehn has a reliable job."  
"I think your former career served you well in becoming an actor.", Varric chuckled.  
"You may be right.", Sulehn smiled. "Although I think I like this role better. It is nice thing to be able to stop playing and go home."  
"Indeed, Violet. Let's toast to that.", Varric said and raised his glass.

Two hours later they said goodbyes to Varric and Isabela, who were expecting Merrill to return from the market.  
"It is a pity you can't meet, but Daisy is just too absent-minded to keep a secret.", Varric said.  
"Thank you for your help, Varric.", Sulehn said warmly. "It's important."  
"Believe me, I'm willing to do whatever I can to help you out. I've seen what happens to heroes. A peaceful retirement is a dream only a few can achieve, even if it means living in Llomerryn. Now, go home and take Happy with you. Old men need their sleep.", Varric winked.  


"Home" was two rooms in the highest floor of a building which hosted the city guard in first two floors and the third was rented out to people Gana favored, but who weren't important enough to earn accommodations in palace.  It was as safe and quiet as it was going to get in Llomerryn, and they didn't have to worry about people stealing the unfinished items Abelas was working on.  
"It was pleasing to see Varric.", Abelas mentioned as he started undressing.  
Sulehn was sitting on the bed, watching him going through the nightly routine of hanging his clothes over the back of the chair to wait for morning. Abelas opened buttons the same way he wore armor, or wielded weapon. Every gesture spoke of purpose. There was nothing unnecessary or superfluous. He knew who he was, and what he was going to do. The thought made her lips curve in a smile. Although his circumstances had changed, Abelas was still the same. It was something Sulehn had always found special and admirable, because her world kept changing. First she had changed everything with a song, until she learned to be quiet. Then she was sent away from her clan, and the Breach had opened on the sky. Inquisition had been nothing but one change after another, and even now she earned her living pretending to be something else. Abelas never pretended. He just _was_.  
"What are you thinking?", he asked.  
"You.", Sulehn replied honestly. "Things I like about you."  
His golden eyes were warm as he slipped under covers with her.  
"I'm willing to listen.", he offered.  
"Varric said the old men need their sleep. If I start now, we will still be awake when the sun rises.", she said.  
"I think I've slept long enough for a lifetime.", Abelas disagreed.  
"I've already changed the sky to describe my feelings.", Sulehn reminded him.  
"You are Dirthamen's indeed, eager to keep your secrets.", he said, clicking his tongue in fake disapproval.  
"Not his. Yours, vhenan.", she said, and pressed her body against his familiar warmth. She heard his low, pleased chuckle as she drifted off to sleep, and all her dreams were happy.


	10. Past comes to Llomerryn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela's ship returns to Llomerryn and she wishes to discuss things she has learned. Abelas is not pleased.

"Wake up, sleepyheads!", Isabela yelled and knocked at the door. "It's me! Your dearest friend, finally back in Llomerryn! Open the door!"  
She heard noise from the other side of the door and grinned.  
"I have food, Abelas! Breakfast!", she added an incentive. Everyone knew Abelas was a horrible cook. Isabela didn't know how he had fed himself before meeting Sulehn, since he claimed he had never needed to cook before coming to Llomerryn. She was just going to knock again, when the door opened, and sleepy Abelas stood on other side. His hair was tousled and he was wearing nothing but underpants.  
"What welcoming sight.", Isabela sighed, openly leering at half-naked Abelas. Sulehn was a lucky, lucky woman. Isabela was quite certain Abelas had not always been an artisan repairing old, moldy artifacts. A man didn't get body like that for tinkering with pincers all day long, and Isabela still remembered how he had caught the dagger when they first met. If Abelas had been a human, Isabela would have put a wager on a former career as noble's bodyguard, but no noble would hire a Dalish man for a bodyguard. Did the Dalish have nobles? She should ask Merrill.  
Abelas snorted and stepped aside, gesturing Isabela to come in.  
"I considered leaving you there, but the neighbors would complain about the racket you keep.", he said and headed back to other door. "Don't touch anything. I'm working on a curse wand."

Isabela hurried after Abelas. The first room was his workspace, which was full of unused rune stones, odd tools and broken things. Normally Isabela would have been interested in it, but she generally didn't steal from her friends if it wasn't absolutely necessary, and Abelas would have kicked her ass if he saw her going through his things. The second room was where the elves actually lived. Sulehn was still sleeping and making odd noise. When Isabela got closer, she noticed it was humming. The elf was humming a melody in her sleep.  
"Wake up.", Isabela sat down on the edge of bed and shook Sulehn's shoulder. "Wake up, your Worship!"  
Sulehn's eyes blinked open and she looked distraught for a moment before she recognized Isabela.  
She sat up immediately, pushing the palms of her hands against the mattress. The pirate glanced at Abelas, who took a quiet step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly.  
"Isabela! I didn't expect..", Sulehn started.  
"I even brought breakfast. Rolls, grapes and all good things.", Isabela interrupted. "And yes, I know. You don't have to bother with gloves."  
"What are you planning to do with your information?", Abelas asked. "Sell it to highest bidder?"  
"Abelas, sweet, it does not take a genius to figure it out. Llomerryn is full of people on the run, but you knew Varric, and your wife keeps wearing gloves even indoors. At first I thought Sulehn had a burn damage or something, but her skin looks just fine. And I was paid to take her over the Waking Sea to Conclave.", Isabela said patiently.  
Sulehn looked miserable, and Isabela patted her knee.  
"I didn't mean to ruin the mood.", she apologized. "And I haven't told anyone, I swear. I just was curious to know why. Maker's hairy balls, you had a castle of your own."  
"And you were once married to rich nobleman.", Sulehn rebutted. "Why did you leave your nice and comfortable life and became a pirate?"  
"Good riposte, songbird.", Isabela said. She was aware of Abelas watching her every movement, and it made her feel uncomfortable. "I wasn't happy. It is that simple."  
"It is that simple.", Sulehn repeated, and for first time, Isabela saw a glimpse of steely gaze of a woman who had killed a would-be god. "I wasn't happy either. But I'm happy now, here, and I don't want Chantry or anything from that life following me. Inquisition has been disbanded, and we have earned our rest."

It took a lot of pastries and four heartfelt assurances of silence from Isabela before the mood was normal and conversation flowed easily once again.  
"I've heard that your "Hard in Hightown" has been a great success. Have you seen it, Abelas?", Isabela asked as she poured herself the first drink of the day.  
"Sulehn told me she is murdered in second act.", Abelas said. He was still slightly grumpy and much to Isabela's disappointment, fully clothed now.  
"But if she is an elven bard in disguise, she is doomed to die.", Isabela wrinkled her nose.  
"Yes, and a Warden before that. It would be a refreshing change to watch a play where you actually survive.", Abelas said to his lover.  
"You will like the new one, then.", Sulehn said, looking outside. The sun was just rising. "We started rehearsals a month ago, and it's progressing well. It's called 'the Phantom of the Chantry'."  
"Phantom of the Chantry? What is it about?", Isabela asked.  
"It's a famous love story from northern Orlais, a musical, and I'm playing the female lead.", Sulehn explained. "Two noble families from the Dales compete in the Game to prove their faith to Divine and earn favor. One of them has a daughter, who is a gifted singer. She is given to a small Chantry, which is rumored to be haunted by ghosts of old. There, a phantom of the Chantry hears her sing, and starts teaching her. A son of the second family has joined the templars in the same Chantry, and falls in love with the girl's voice. Eventually he finds out that the phantom is actually a demon, he banishes it and saves the girl. They kiss and confess their love for each other, but because they both are servants of faith, they must part ways forever. So they both serve the Maker for the rest of their days, and never speak of their love again."  
"It sounds horribly depressing. I can't imagine why anyone would want to serve the Chantry, but I love a good cry. You must reserve seats for the opening night. I'm sure Varric wants to see it, and we'll drag Abelas with us.", Isabela said.  
"It is our biggest production so far. Dwarven Merchants Guild has invested huge sums of money into theatre after Fifth Blight and Hard in Hightown were so successful, and now we have three mages just for the props, illusions and lights. Roberto is playing the templar, and the audience already loved him as Alistair. The elf playing the Phantom is a true method actor, and his voice is wonderful."  
"What is a method actor?", Isabela asked.  
"His character has a mask, and he wears it all the time to get used to it. It makes singing and talking a bit harder, apparently. He was the one who pitched the manuscript to Madame Elodie, and then auditioned for Phantom's part. I think he has been in Orlesian theatre before, because he is giving us lessons on technique. They are extremely interesting.", Sulehn explained enthusiastically.  
"She hasn't let me read the manuscript.", Abelas noted.  
"Of course not. It would spoil everything.", Sulehn said, standing up. "But I have to go now. We have a morning rehearsal until midday, then I promised to help out with painting the scenes for new play, and then there will be Hard in Hightown in the evening. I can reserve a place for you if you want to come, Isabela."  
"It would be great, dear. But your schedule sounds horrible. Do you have any time for Abelas?"  
"No.", Abelas answered stoically. "She even dreams of singing when she sleeps."  
"That doesn't sound good, songbird. I married you two, and I feel personally responsible for your happiness. How I'm ever going to see those broody little elf babies if you are too busy for dalliance?", Isabela inquired.  
"I don't know. I'll get something for dinner from the market on my way to work.", Sulehn said and pulled a cloak over her dress. She bent to peck Abelas' cheek for goodbye, but he was having none of it. He pulled her on his lap, instead, and gave her slow, real kiss which made the tips of her ears turn pink.  
"It's good that clearly one of you knows how.", Isabela remarked when he let Sulehn go. "I still have hope left."  
"You shemlen and your ideas of human courting are horrible influence on him.", Sulehn complained and took a basket from the corner.  
"I endure.", Abelas offered solemnly.  
"I know you do.", Sulehn smiled at him. "But now I have to run. Dareth shiral."

 When they heard the outer door closing after Sulehn, Abelas leaned against the back of his chair and looked at Isabela.  
"Is this the part where you threaten to kill me? Or you kill me and dump my body out from window?", Isabela asked, mentally checking the locations of her daggers.  
"I haven't chosen yet which option to take.", Abelas said coolly. "I am not convinced you can hold your silence. It was foolish to tell that you knew, but at the same time, it is the only proof I have of your good intentions. You are too curious for your own good."  
"Couldn't we agree that you'll be keeping eye on me?", Isabela suggested.  
"Maybe."  
"And that I promise to keep my mouth shut, or you will set a blood mage after me or wave the curse wand at me?", she continued making suggestions.  
"If the Inquisition comes after us, Isabela, I will blame you."  
"That sounds somewhat worse than any list of threats you could make.", Isabela admitted.  
"Good.", Abelas said and took another pastry.  
They were quiet for a moment, focusing on breakfast, until Isabela asked:  
"Were you the apostate elf mage in the Inner Circle?"  
"No.", Abelas replied.  
"Were you with the Inquisition when they won Corypheus?"  
"No."  
"Damn. Do the Dalish have noblemen, then?"  
"No."  
"You are no fun, Abelas."

 

\--

 

 

 

Llomerryn's market was famous across Thedas. It was said that any man could find his heart's desire from Llomerryn, whatever it was that he sought, and Sulehn thought the claim might actually be true. Pirates of Felicisma Armada brought stolen merchandise all across the world, and since Llomerryn was the only politically neutral port in Thedas, the raiders thought it a perfect place to get rid of easily traced goods. Buyers knew that, and for those who didn't have time to browse ever-changing offerings of the market, there were middlemen willing to keep an eye for specific item. Many made their living from a standing list of client orders.  
The queen of Rivain had a longstanding agreement with the leaders of Felicisma Armada: as long as they didn't attack Rivaini ships, she let them run the small island. Gana of Llomerryn was rumored to be a retired pirate queen, who played one pirate captain against another, keeping a relative peace to those living permanently in Llomerryn.

The little known fact to those visiting Llomerryn was that the city had two markets. The permanent residents of Llomerryn had usually no need or funds to purchase pirate treasures, but they required groceries, simple household items and herbal remedies like everyone else. The small, ordinary market crammed between "One-legged Wench", a tavern, and "Parting her Veil", a bordello offering magical experiences, was Sulehn's destination today. 

Early morning was usually good time to walk around Llomerryn. The sailors having a shore leave were still sleeping, exhausted from last night's revelry, and most establishments, like theatre where Sulehn worked, opened their doors for public only after sundown. The first hours of morning were for the ordinary people like her, whose husband had stayed up late, working. Using the word "husband" tasted like sweetest mead in her mouth, making Sulehn smile like a fool.  
  
Abelas had just finished repairing a staff for a son of Tevinter magister, and the grocery budget had been much improved by it. They could have lamb, maybe, even though it was much more expensive than fish. The mage had broken a focus crystal in a bar fight, and mana balance of his staff had gotten hopelessly shattered. The young 'Vint had enjoyed the delights Llomerryn offered, and was not at all sorry for having delay his return to Val Dorma for five weeks. Magisters were usually very possessive of inherited family pieces, and the mage's older companion had went on and on about how valuable the staff was, and how he was worried about trusting a knife-ear to repair it. The owner himself had smoked too many mushroom cigars to care about who touched the family heirloom, but the old man had come every week to check if the staff was ready yet, and to check if they still had it, Sulehn suspected. Tevinters had paid the amount Abelas had asked, and departed with their staff yesterday. After the men had finally left, Abelas had spitefully mentioned that the staff was nothing but a training stick given to elvhen children first coming to their magic.

Shopping for groceries took longer than Sulehn had expected, because there was no lamb on sale, and she bought fish instead. It meant she had to argue with the fisherman about whether the salmon he tried to sell to her was freshly caught or not. She always put an ice spell on groceries to keep them from spoiling, but it didn't help if the damage was already done. Growing up with nomadic hunter-gatherers had made Sulehn strict about these things. Abelas didn't have the faintest idea of preserving food, because he had existed by drawing sustenance from Fade for the last three thousand years. He had gone to market once, and the fish he had brought back gave them both a food poisoning which lasted three days. After the accident, Sulehn had decided to take over the shopping and cooking. Abelas kept practicing, and Isabela was his victim of choice since the pirate's diet was mostly liquid. Isabela was willing to eat anything when hangover was bad enough. The pirate had mentioned that the last stew she had eaten at their place was almost good, meaning it didn't give her stomachache. In Sulehn's opinion, the problem was that Abelas' ideas of suitable spices remained very controversial, but she didn't say it out loud. He was progressing. Somewhat.

She didn't expect to get mugged on her way to work.

 

It was a group of idiots who had messed their heads smoking the water pipes at One-Eyed Sonja's place. Sulehn cursed inwardly - she should have known better than take the shortcut passing Sonja's, but she hadn't thought at all. It was not uncommon for Sonja's customers to see things which were not there, to attack people without any provocation or try to drag a lone woman into quiet alley. When Sulehn noticed three shems, two men and one woman, starting to follow her, she picked up her pace and straightened her back. Heroes never slouched. It was a mantra Madame Elodie kept repeating. The city was still quiet, only a few birds sitting on the rooftops. 

Luck was not at her side. The woman seemed to know Llomerryn better than Sulehn had expected, because she appeared in front of her, leaning against the stone wall. She was obviously a warrior, well-built even though her eyes weren't focusing right. Sulehn tensed, starting to feel nervous. She didn't have a staff or a bow, and this was the first time she was in fight situation after Dirthamen had taken her voice. Sulehn had never had a reason to be afraid in a battle, because she could simply sing the doom upon her enemies. But it wasn't so now.  
"Hand over your money.", the woman said.  
Sulehn took a better hold of the basket she was carrying, and narrowed her eyes. She was not defenseless even without a weapon or her song. She invoked her magic, parting the Veil and calling the cold to come through. Woman yelped as ice encompassed her, and Sulehn was just going to sprint away with a Fade step when a hand pulled the hood of her cloak.

It was a good cloak, thick, robust fabric. It had been ridiculously expensive because the scarlet red was hard to dye with natural extracts, but Abelas had insisted. He enjoyed spoiling her.   
Sulehn was screaming, but her cry for help was cut short when a shem slammed his smelly hand over her mouth, and she felt something horrible. It was like a thick, wet blanket slamming between her and the Fade, except blankets could not burn. Templar's smite. One of the idiots must have been ex-templar. Each breath she drew felt raw, and she kicked at the shem, trying to break free when the second shem stepped in her view, holding a knife.  
"Let's make this quick.", the second shem slurred, and the knife flashed in sunlight as he stabbed her. Sulehn managed to push her arm in the knife's way and just when she felt the blade biting her skin, she saw the Veil twisting in very familiar way, and the man attacking her and the one holding her fell down, pulling her with him. A stonefist spell followed, exploding the frozen woman.

Although Sulehn was still unable to even feel the presence of magic after the smite, she knew the spells. That particular combination had saved her skin countless times before. The ex-templar who had held her, was quicker to recover than his drunk friend, and was already standing up with sword in his hand.   
"A templar, Solas!", Sulehn screamed and scrambled up, snatching the dagger from the ground. It was still red with her blood, but the wound on her arm was mostly superficial.  
She saw surprisement in his eyes when she spoke, and then the templar was on him, slashing with the sword. Solas lifted his staff up to block the strike and buy time to cast a barrier, but Sulehn heard a sharp crack when the sword broke the focus crystal. Fenedhis. She jumped at templars' back, hanging like a monkey, and stabbed the dagger into soft flesh of his throat, cutting his throat open.

"Solas!", she cried out as soon as the templar fell and ran to him. Sulehn put her arms around him, and hugged him with smile on her face.   
"Oh, lethallin, I thought I would never see you again. I'm so sorry about your staff - I'll get it fixed, these things happen here all the time - where are you staying? That apprentice stick took five weeks, but I think if I ask very nicely and promise to calm down that man who waits for his curse wand, he'll repair your staff in six."  
"You are prattling.", Solas said, shaking his head. "What are you doing here? How can you talk?"  
He pulled up her sleeve with familiarity of an old friend, studied the cut and then took a handkerchief from his pocket, bandaging the wound.  
"Fenedhis lasa, I'm awfully late from work. Solas, tell me where you are staying, and we can talk. I know someone who will fix Tyrdda's staff for you. I'm in your debt for your help, and I promise to explain everything, but I really have to run now."  
"I only just arrived and I'm not staying anywhere yet. I hoped to discuss spirits with Rivaini seers and--"  
"We'll set you up with Gana of Llomerryn. She is our landlord and my husband's patron.", Sulehn said, picking up the pieces of staff from the ground. She put them in her basket and continued. "Go to Broken Dwarf and tell the owner that I'll get him tickets next week if he gives you a decent room for the night. It's mostly honest place. Avoid the Blue Oyster at all costs, although it is slightly cheaper. I'll come to meet you after work. Promise?"  
Solas nodded slowly, digesting the new information.  
"All right, lethallan. I will see you later."  
"It's agreed then. Dareth shiral!", Sulehn said and started to run towards the theatre.

 

 

 


	11. Method acting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sulehn practices the new play at theatre, and takes Solas home to meet serah Lavellan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theatre part works best with music setting the mood. The scene and accompanying lyrics are a Thedasian combination of two songs,  
> Music of the night https://youtu.be/DkfutNIPdlM?t=2m27s  
> Point of no return https://youtu.be/TFZrM38mf7Y

She had been late, and madame Elodie had scolded her in front of everyone after she heard Sulehn's explanation. Madame was not as angry about her being late as for Sulehn's safety and the prosperity of the theatre; success of the play depended on those chosen for the main roles, and they didn't have anybody who could step in. Sulehn was still mortified when her turn came.  
"Now; the seduction scene. Phantom and Nicoline meet in the quiet Chantry.", madame Elodie commanded from the front row.

The conductor signed at orchestra, and the clavichord started, the strings joining in. Phantom's costume from the scene was very simplistic: black cloak with a hood drawn over his face, while she was dressed in red robes of Chantry novice. Sulehn could barely see the color of his eyes behind the mask, but it didn't matter. They had practiced this scene many times before, but this was the first rehearsal complete with costumes, illusions and the theatre choir.

The scene started at always. She was kneeling at the altar, head bent in humble prayer, when he entered the Chantry and began to sing quietly. With each step he took towards her, his voice became stronger, louder.

 _"Softly, deftly_  
_Music shall caress you_  
_Hear it, feel it_  
_Secretly possess you_  
_Open up your mind_  
_Let your fantasies unwind_  
_In this darkness that you know you cannot fight_  
_The darkness of the music of the night "_

By the time he reached Sulehn to stand behind her, his voice blazed like lyrium in the darkness, and it made her feel breathless. He slid his cold hands along the sides of her body, and it felt natural to let her head rest against his shoulder, baring her vulnerable neck for him.  
"That is excellent gesture, Nicoline!", madame Elodia shouted. "Remember that one. You are weak, giving in to the demon!"

 _"Let your mind_  
_Start a journey through a strange new world_  
_Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before_  
_Let your soul take you where you long to be._  
_Only then can you belong to me "_

Singing with someone else had always felt personal to Sulehn, and in musical, it was supposed to be like that. Good actors never sang to audience, madame Elodie always said; they sang to each other, and that created the chemistry audience loved to see.

After his part ended, Sulehn fled the demon's grasp, leaning against the altar for safety. Her voice trilled the first stanza, and she wrung her hands, afraid and alone, staring at the floor. Conflict and desire were almost real enough to touch.

 _"You have brought me_  
_To that moment where words run dry_  
_To that moment where speech disappears_  
_Into silence, silence._ "

From the corner of her eye, she saw the dark forms of dancers rising behind the benches of Chantry. She opened her mouth, slowly lifting her gaze from the floor, and her voice gained confidence and strength with each word. As the veilfire torches started to burn, revealing the dancing demons on the background, she met the look of Phantom's purple eyes defiantly and sang:

 _"Past the point of no return, no going back now_  
_Our passion play has now at last begun_  
_Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question_  
_How long should we to wait, before we're one?"_

He let his hood drop down and strode to meet her, his steps commanding and firm, singing:

 _"Past the point of no return, no backward glances_  
_Our games of make-believe are at an end_  
_Past all thought of if or when, no use resisting_  
_Abandon thought and let the dream descend._ "

They met in the middle, her hands touching his elbows as they pressed their foreheads together. He was a taller than she, and Sulehn felt his lips brushing against her brow. That simple, fleeting touch burned like lyrium. He straightened himself and threw his cloak away with dramatic gesture, holding up his other arm. It was Sulehn's cue to whirl around under his arm.  
The Phantom put his hand on her waist, pulling her back against his body, and the fingers of his other hand brushed her neck, finding the very spot where her pulse beat and stayed there. It made her feel vulnerable and open, like he was counting her heartbeats.  
The sound of strings was so impossibly bright that music coursed through her body like a lighting. Her voice joined his, her body pressing against his, and the purity of their notes made her heart ache. Theatre chorus dressed as demons danced around them, their movements almost gleeful, and the heatless flames of veilfire burned on the background.

 _"Past the point of no return, the final threshold_  
_What warm unspoken secrets will we learn?_  
_Beyond the point of no return."_

 _"Past the point of no return, the final threshold_  
_The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn_  
_We've passed the point of no return_ "

As their last notes echoed and died in silence and all veilfire torches were extinguished at once, Sulehn stood frozen in the darkness. She tried to think something, anything, but it was hard. She could scarcely feel anything else than the vein in her neck beating under his fingers. It felt like taking a lyrium overdose, or an emptiness which always followed after working a great spell. Abelas had said her song was leaking; maybe it was that, or merely the lingering effects from smite. Her mind was silent, empty, and for a moment, it felt like she could not utter a word even if she had wanted to. The feeling remained even after madame Elodie called the prep mages to put the lights back, and the Phantom let go of her, murmuring few complimentary words about her performance.

 

The dizziness had mostly gone away when Sulehn left the theatre late afternoon. Although the Dwarven Merchants Guild had invested a sizable sum of money to madame Elodie's theatre, all actors lent a hand to various tasks behind the scenes. The schedule had been planned that way on purpose. Madame understood very well that coming back to real world after immersing oneself so deeply into character was hard, and she always said that it was best to quiet the emotional turmoil inside the walls of theatre where people understood.

Sulehn usually helped to plan the props for the play; the archdemon had been drawn by her hand at first and the illusionist mages had worked the spell from her sketch. Today she had painted the Chantry altarpiece on canvas for easy storage; a singing Andraste. Sulehn had been forced to sit through so many recitals of Chant that it was easy task to copy the common elements, and Roberto had joked that they could sell her painting to Chantry after it was no longer needed. Hadmentir, the man playing the Phantom said that he believed they would be performing this play for a long time. There was talk in the theatre that Hadmentir had contacted his old employers in Val Royeaux, and there might be a tour abroad. The thought was new and exciting, but the play was shaping out to be spectacular, they all knew it. Madame Elodie was mysterious and didn't confirm or deny the rumors, but everyone just worked harder.

She headed straight to Broken Dwarf, and kept her eyes open this time. Getting mugged twice in one day would be too much, and it was bad enough to imagine the look on Abelas' face when she told him about what had happened. Sulehn cringed just thinking about it, but it had been partially her fault. It wasn't safe to walk around Llomerryn without weapon.

 

The owner of Broken dwarf, Albrecht, was a fan and a shameless flirt. Most Antivans were.  
"Good to see you, sweet thing. How is the new play coming out? I've heard spectacular rumors. Care to give me a little peek at your lines in the back room?"  
"Like the time you asked whether you could see if I had vallaslin on other parts of my body, too?", Sulehn asked, sitting down on the stool by counter.  
"Precisely.", the dwarf said. "It's the saddest story of my life that I'm not tall enough to get a peek."  
"It didn't keep you from trying in Madame's last party.", Sulehn snorted. "You crawled under my skirts."  
"And then serah Lavellan pulled me out and dumped me in the ditch before I got a good look. My soul is still bruised.", Albrecht sniffed, but perked up immediately. "Is this finally the day you've understood that an artist like you deserves a man who worships her night and day, not a violent elf?"  
"What makes you think serah Lavellan doesn't do that?", Sulehn asked.  
"Of course he does. Who wouldn't, given a chance? But I'm much better.", the dwarf assured her with a wink. "Dwarven men have stamina rivaling Grey Wardens. And chest hair. All ladies of Llomerryn just love the feel of it."  
"What is it with you dwarves and chest hair? But I actually came to ask after a friend of mine. Did he deliver my message to you?", Sulehn asked and took two tickets for tonight's play from her pocket, waving them at the dwarf.  
"It pains me, but he did.", Albrecht said, snatching the tickets instantly. "It's room number three, you heartless demon of desire. I'll send a boy up to tell you're here."

When Solas came downstairs, Sulehn was engaged in easy banter with the owner. They were haggling over a bottle of Tevinter wine.  
"For you, I would sell it with two Antivan silvers, but because I know you'll share it with serah Lavellan, it's four silvers.", the dwarf said.  
"Albrecht, carrying a grudge in your heart isn't good for you. Haven't you listened Chantry mothers telling you that forgiveness is a virtue?"  
"When I want to listen the Chant, I visit 'Damned and Divine'. I like their Chant much better."  
"I really didn't need to know that. Two silvers and one copper.", Sulehn offered.  
"Three silvers."  
"You scarred me mentally with that comment about 'Damned and Divine'. Two silvers and three coppers."  
"They have a new one there, Victoria. She's very popular with customers.", the dwarf told her.  
"Two silvers and I'll tell you the name of our new play."  
"It's a deal!", the dwarf hit his fist on the counter. "Whisper it in my ear."  
Sulehn did as he asked and a huge smile spread on the dwarf's face.  
"Oh, it's going to be splendid. Just thinking of you in that role... I think I'll have to pay a visit to Divine Victoria soon. Preferably tonight."  
Sulehn grimaced.  
"Yuch. I knew I shouldn't have told you."  
"Seriously, sweet thing, I can't wait to see it. And thank you for the tickets. Give my undying envy to serah Lavellan."  
Solas coughed to make his presence known, and Sulehn turned towards him with a smile.  
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting, Solas. Come. I'll take you to my home."

"I thought we would talk in my room.", Solas remarked as they walked along the streets of Llomerryn.  
"Good inns like Broken Dwarf do not allow visitors in guest's rooms. It's an edict by Gana's city guard. There were too many accidents and deaths when the travelers could simply pay someone to come with them. Inns have fewer guards than bordellos, and there is no help available if a customer becomes violent.", Sulehn explained.  
"It is a pleasure to see you like this, Sulehn. You always talked my ears off in the Fade."  
"Now you are embarrassing me, Solas.", she said, looking a bit mortified.  
"There is no reason to feel shame. I meant to say I'm happy for you. You deserved to be freed, although I have to admit I'm curious on how it came to pass."  
The look in her face was frightened for a moment, but she suppressed it quickly.  
"I will tell you everything I can when we get home. It's better to talk there. If you want, you are welcome to share a meal with us."  
"I am curious to meet this serah Lavellan.", Solas admitted. "Is he a Dalish? A member of your old clan?"  
"You will see.", Sulehn smiled.

Solas wasn't sure what to expect when Sulehn took him to the third floor of a guardhouse and unlocked a door which looked just like any others, with exception of a painted sign hanging from the door. It was the old elven glyph for magic.  
"That's for his customers. Neighbors don't like when Tevinter magisters bang at their doors.", Sulehn explained and turned the key again. When the door still didn't budge, Sulehn sighed and looked around in empty corridor before pulling the glove off her hand. She placed the anchor against lock and a neat click informed them of open door.  
Solas noted this piece of information for future need. Dagna had suggested that anchor acted as a key, and considering the features of his orb, it had been likely. Now it had been proved. There were things he might need to ask from Sulehn for the sake of his mission, but they could wait.

 

 

Abelas had spent more time watching out from the window than working on curse wand. The problem was straightforward enough, but Isabela's visit was bothering him. They had landed on the shore here almost two years ago and Abelas was slowly getting accustomed to strange new world around him. It was easier in Llomerryn than in Skyhold, mostly because life in the pirate den was so unlike anything Abelas had ever experienced that it didn't invoke wistful echoes of past like Tarasyl'an Te'las. His work brought him some resemblance of familiarity, and most importantly let him set his own pace. Abelas was sure he would have gone mad if he had to run from one place to another like his mortal heart did.

He was not sure if he could trust Isabela. A part of him believed with cold certainty that safest course of action would be a quiet kill while passing her in a street, or a withering curse the mages of this Age could not trace to him. Although Abelas did not walk Vir Banal'ras, the Way of Shadow, he knew the steps well enough. He would leave Vir Atish'an and the arts of a mender without a second thought if he could be sure it would keep Chantry and Creators off their trail. But killing Isabela might not accomplish anything. The pirate had been their companion for a long time, and Abelas was loath to turn against her unless it was necessary.  
He shook his head, annoyed at himself. Letting himself dwell on everything which might go wrong never helped, and surely he was old enough to know it. Fear did not necessarily mean there was a deceit behind it. He would think on what to do about Isabela, and act only after he was certain.

Abelas pushed his work away and stood up, stretching his back. It was harder to stay positive without Sulehn. She was light, and laughter, always poking and prodding and never leaving him to sink in the sea of his silent despair. She was a river, always flowing forwards and taking him with her. Some experiences were unpleasant, like ships, and some he found very interesting, like shemlen courting habits, but all of them were new, and that was worth something.  
When he heard key turning in a lock, he turned, a smile already tugging the corners of his mouth. She was finally here.

"Abelas", she said, stepping aside to reveal Fen'Harel. "I brought a friend to dinner."

 The men stared at each other for a long time. Fen'Harel recovered first.  
"I certainly didn't expect to see you here, Abelas."  
"I could say same thing about you, _Solas_.", Abelas replied. His movements were slow and deliberate, as he walked to Sulehn and took the basket she held. There was a broken staff, and by the looks of it, damage had been very recent.  
"I got mugged on my way to work and Solas came to my rescue.", Sulehn explained. "One of them was a renegade templar."  
"I see.", Abelas said, collecting the pieces of staff and placing them on his worktable. "I take this belongs to our guest?"  
"It was my fault it broke. I thought if you could--"  
"Of course.", he said smoothly before she had time to finish. "I will keep company to Solas while you prepare the dinner. We will discuss this later."  
Sulehn grimaced. She recognized a warning of retribution when she heard one.  
"Are you angry?"  
"It depends entirely what happened.", Abelas informed her.  
"A superficial flesh wound and a smite. I didn't have a weapon."  
Abelas let out a breath and looked at Sulehn:  
"By Daern'thal's hairy arse, woman, it would be so much easier to be married to you if you didn't try to die every time I look another way."  
The Dread Wolf started to guffaw behind her back.

 

One of things Abelas had never expected to do was washing dishes with Dread Wolf. Retelling the story about Envy, Chantry and their escape had taken a long time. The evening performance of "Hard in Hightown" required it's elven bard, and Abelas had insisted escorting her to theatre. Sulehn was rehearsing her lines in the workroom, waiting for them to finish the washing up.  
"Sulehn said that she can't tell how she got her voice. Do you know anything more?", Fen'Harel asked in ancient elvish as he passed him a plate scrubbed clean.  
Abelas rinsed the plate and replied in same language:  
"All I know was that I saw Andruil coming for her, and claiming Sulehn was you. When she came back, her song was gone, and she had a mark on her brow. The bracelets were gone. The mark is merely a scar now, with no magic I could detect. A binding, maybe? I don't know."  
He dried the clean plate with a towel and continued sharply:  
"But you owe her, Dread Wolf. Your plans are you own, but she should not suffer in Andruil's hands because of you. Hunt Andruil if you will, but we only wish to be left in peace. Three decades are not too much to ask. A blink of an eye, and she will be gone, your anchor returned to you."  
"I did not seek her out deliberately, and I am truly sorry about Andruil. I didn't know she had escaped.", Fen'Harel said sincerely. "I had other things to do in Rivain."  
"Prove your sincerity, then.", Abelas didn't give up. It was never wise to bait a god, but he had to. For her sake. "Be a good friend. After I have repaired your staff, tell her your true name, make apologies and then go. Don't pull us into your plans, whatever they are."  
Fen'Harel's jaw was set tight, as he considered sentinel's words.  
"I will do what I must, but I will think of your words.", he replied, and the tone of his voice made it clear that the discussion had ended.

 


	12. Preparing for the show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas unravels the riddle of Sulehn's voice.  
> Abelas and Sulehn discuss crows.  
> Varric and Isabela arrive in time for the premiere.

Next night Solas searched and found Sulehn's dreams in the Fade. She was once again dreaming of theatre, singing on the stage with a man dressed as a templar. The golden bubble of Abelas' dreams floated nearby. Solas considered brushing against it, to appraise if Abelas still remained unaffected by quickening, but decided to pass. The sentinel did not yet know that what was left of his goddess, was now within Solas, and Dread Wolf doubted he would take it well.   
The unexpected union between the two required some considerations in Solas' plans. Since he had taken Mythal's spirit, he ruled over the Well of Sorrows and all souls bound to it, including Abelas. When the time was ripe and he had enough power to enter the Black City, he would need Sulehn and her anchor. Using Abelas as leverage might be necessary, although unpleasant. Solas doubted Sulehn would agree to his plan voluntarily.   


Another option, a less savory one, was to wait until Sulehn died and catch the anchor before it dissolved into Void. To do that, Solas would have to be present at the moment of her death, and he could not shadow her every move. Had there not been Abelas, it could have been possible. He genuinely liked Sulehn, and with a little stretch of imagination, Solas could have seen himself in place which was now proudly held by Abelas. Not in same way, certainly, because he knew she was not real, but one did not need to be real to provide basic companionship. Privately, Solas pitied the man. To serve Mythal for so long, only to break down and start believing in illusions... But it was not his place to judge. Shemlen mages succumbed to will of spirits every day. If a mage of Elvhenan wished to fool himself by believing the Dalish were real, and play house with a being which was little more than a shadow of an elf, he could do so. And Sulehn was very believable shadow. Solas had been taken aback several times himself when she said something which was frightfully _more_ than one would expect from a Dalish savage.  


But yes, the problem of regaining the anchor. Only way to know the exact moment of someone's death was to deliver the killing blow, and Solas did not like the thought of killing Sulehn. She was his friend, just like any other spirit he had encountered and befriended. He shook his head, annoyed. But there were more pressing concerns, now. He had a mystery to solve.

 

Solas spent most of first four weeks in Llomerryn making a very taxing journey through the Fade. He returned to place where a lonely eluvian stood to find out if it was true, if his brethren had truly returned. But the mirror had been whole. Solas pushed his hand against the solid surface, and felt the bitterest of regrets when the mirror no longer answered to his touch. He pressed his ear against the eluvian, and closed his eyes when he heard the soft breathing from the other side. The pain of solitude, the sheer longing he felt, was cutting enough to drive him on his knees, and if he had still possessed his key, he would have unlocked the eluvian, not caring about consequences.

He did not know how long he had remained like that, kneeling at the eluvian and listening the breaths of his sleeping brothers and sisters behind the mirror, when he finally found strength to stand up. He grasped the mirror frame to pull himself up, and only then he saw it. A slightest crack, no thinner than a single hair, on eluvian's surface.

 

The discovery had sent him to mad hunt across Fade, but his prey hid from him. After Solas got over his initial shock, he had decided that his best chance of finding out what had happened was to backtrack Sulehn's steps through the eluvian in Skyhold. Finding a working eluvian connecting to one in Skyhold had taken some time, but finally he found one in eastern Rivain. 

There was one advantage to deteriorating Crossroads; nobody cleaned there. Even though the blood had been spilled two years ago, stains still remained. It was simple task for wolf with six eyes to follow the trail which started from eluvian in Tara'sylan Tel'as, continued across the northern part of plaza and finally ended at unremarkable mirror, a second one in a group of five.  
"Fen'Harel enansal.", Solas stated, and the mirror changed, letting him pass.

 

Stepping through the eluvian, Solas found himself wading in knee-deep water which smelled foul. He ignited a flame of veilfire on his palm and looked around. He had been here before. The surroundings were familiar. Six stone pillars rising from the water, and an artifact in the middle. A staircase in northern end of the room, iron-wrought ornate doors on left and right, the chamber of Oracle behind his back. Temple of Dirthamen, where Sulehn had collected the dismembered body parts of Highest One and placed them on the altar.   
Solas cursed aloud as he climbed out of stinking water and saw another bloody stain on the stones near water's edge. He promptly casted wards, making them much stronger than usually, and laid down on the floor. It took a while before he could fall asleep, but his will was stronger than his raging emotions.

Once he was in the Fade, it was easy to dive deeper in the memories of the temple. Solas saw an elven woman stepping out from eluvian, dragging the bleeding, limp form of Inquisitor behind her. The woman looked the part, yes, with little bells twined in her braids and the bow on her back, but Solas could carve the lines of Andruil's face from memory, and this woman was not the Huntress, no matter how well she played her role. He winced inwardly as she kicked Sulehn, and Inquisitor curled in a ball.  
"Enough, Andruil.", a familiar male voice said in the dream. "Step aside and wait, until I have further orders for you."  
Solas felt his breath catching in his throat as he watched Dirthamen walking from the shadows. Andruil may have been impostor, but this was his brother. There was no doubt of that. Sulehn had risen to her knees, but when she saw Dirthamen approaching, she promptly dropped her gaze down on the stones. Solas had barely enough time to notice their eyes were the same color.  
Dirthamen stopped in front of her, looking at Sulehn who was bleeding all over the floor. There were no words to be heard, but Solas had the impression they were discussing something, because suddenly Sulehn retorted:  
"Take your curse away. I don't want it. I never wanted it."  
Dirthamen cocked his head slightly on the side, his expression ironic, and snapped his fingers. Sulehn became anxious, pulling a glove off her hand, and a familiar bracelet fell on the floor in three parts. Removing another glove revealed another broken bracelet, and she started to cry soundlessly.   
There were no words exchanged, but from the changing emotions on Sulehn's face, it was clear that something was going on. She went from tears to wariness, then surprise, and finally her mouth opened slightly.  
"I agree.", a melody escaped from her lips, and Solas watched his brother bending down to kiss her brow. It was the exact spot of her scar, his mind supplied. Inquisitor collapsed on the floor like rag doll. Dirthamen let her lay there for a moment before he pulled her up. Sulehn's legs were wobbly, and there was a blackish blue spot on her brow. She looked Dirthamen in the eye, and once again Solas suspected they were communicating somehow, because his brother nodded. The Inquisitor staggered towards eluvian, stepping through it. Dirthamen waited until she was gone and then vanished inside mirror, too.

 

Although Solas tried his hardest, he could not find more memories which would shed the light to mystery. But now he knew the truth; Dirthamen was somewhere in Thedas, and he had agreement with Sulehn. Her reward was clear enough, but Solas didn't know what was the price, except it must have been important enough for Dirthamen to arrange an involuntary meeting with a Dalish shadow. What he did know was that this was a not what he had planned to happen, and he could not begin to guess Dirthamen's game. It would have been easier if it had been Andruil. Not the cunning one of the lot.

The answer lay with Sulehn, that much was clear. He had to return to Llomerryn as soon as possible, and find some answers. The most likely prize for his brother to seek was the anchor. There was one thing Dirthamen certainly wanted, and it was the other half of his soul, sleeping behind the mirror. But if he simply wanted the anchor, why he had let Sulehn go? The ship Solas had boarded at Dairsmuid could not reach Llomerryn soon enough.

\---

A crow was staring at Abelas as he opened the window to let a night breeze cool the room. The bird had built a nest on the roof of the house on other side of the street. He saw another crow sometimes, when they switched places.   
"I think the crows are hatching eggs.", he informed Sulehn as he returned to bed. She was sprawled like a sea star, a thin layer of sweat covering her skin.   
"Opportunists.", she remarked with half-closed eyes. "The season is rather late for that. The rains are almost upon us."  
"Don't be so quick to judge. They might surprise you yet.", Abelas told her, following the lines of vallaslin over her breastbone with his fingertips. It was the same symbol which marked her cheekbones, curving up to her temples. They were always drawn in pairs, closely following the sharp-pointed double line but never joining it.  
"I didn't take you for a defender of crows.", Sulehn noted.  
"Llomerryn has taught me that happiness is a choice, vhenan.", he replied. "One would think this is the most unlikely place to find it, but I've found myself disagreeing the notion lately. There is much the people can learn from crows. They don't let pesky problems like late season to stop them from doing what they wish. For creatures as determined as they, I have no doubt they will produce offspring successfully, even in Llomerryn."  
Her violet eyes looked at Abelas, assessing with warm curiosity.  
"Are you still talking about crows, serah Lavellan, or yourself?"  
"Aren't you the chosen of Dirthamen, not I?", he rebutted. "What does your god tell you? You do have enough markings for a priest, at least."  
"Oh, I know.", Sulehn snorted. "One of my clansmen said I had everything but a varterral tattooed on my ass. _That_ would have been a sight to behold."  
Abelas chuckled.  
"I was always slightly worried that he would say it while Keeper heard. She went a bit overboard with all these.", she swept a careless hand over her naked body. "I would not have put a varterral beyond Deshanna."  
"Each elvhen entering the service of Mythal was given this.", Abelas said, touching the vallaslin on his forehead, "But the rest had to be earned. They were markings of worth in her eyes. More symbols one had, more beloved he was by her."  
"Or they were bindings to keep what was hers.", Sulehn pointed out.   
"That, too.", Abelas nodded.  
"I think it was the idea my Keeper had when she made all these. She never forgave me about giving her wings, even though they withered and fell off eventually. It's first thing I remember. The Dalish screaming and running around in circles when wings sprouted from Keeper's back."  
"I can't claim I know much about your gift, but I'm fairly certain it was not supposed to happen like that.", Abelas told her seriously.  
"I was later told that there had been curious accidents earlier, but my mother had managed to keep the curse hidden from everyone until then. She must have been crafty. Or desperate. Maybe both."  
"But how did the Dalish figure out your gift was Dirthamen's magic?", Abelas asked, distracting her by adding a tingling of magic to his wandering touch.  
"I should have employed you to interrogate people in Skyhold.", Sulehn groaned.  
"Just answer the question, ma lath.", Abelas smirked.  
"Well, the Keeper found out that my parents had a different use for God of Secrets. Mainly 'let's have a secret affair and do the deed here at Dirthamen's altar since nobody comes here anyway'. My father was bonded to another woman, you see. So they figured out that I was cursed because my parents had shown disrespect to bonds of family loyalty. The clan couldn't get rid of me because they were afraid of angering him further, even though I became fourth mage of the clan. The vallaslins were Keeper's attempt to placate the Creator and teach me silence."   
"I think I prefer you like this.", Abelas remarked, drawing circles on her inner tigh. "Although having my very own star constellation is flattering."  
Sulehn hid her face behind her hands.  
"I still can't believe you told Solas about the constellation.", she whined. "I'll never live it down. The look on his face!"  
"I'm sure he has heard worse.", Abelas said, undisturbed, and traced his pattern of magic higher.  
Sulehn removed her hands from her face, still a bit mortified but most certainly distracted.  
"Abelas, if you keep doing that, I'm starting to suspect you got ideas from those blasted birds."  
"Would you be opposed if I had?", he asked quietly.  
She looked at him, her expression softening.   
"The opening night of the new play is only days away. Ask me again after that, serah Lavellan."  
"I will.", Abelas promised, feeling the warmth slowly spreading from his heart to every corner of his body. Like he had said, happiness was a choice, and she had not said no.

 

The day came when the actors and the support staff - or like madame Elodie said, the artists of Llomerryn theatre - met at the theatre for last-minute preparations, rehearsals and the final touches. There would be two performances on the evening; the first, private one for the leaders of Felicita Armada, Gana and other influential people, and the second one for public. Isabela had gotten a ticket for the first since she was a captain in Felicita Armada, and she was determined not to let anyone forget it. Varric had travelled from Kirkwall as a representative of Dwarven Merchants Guild, although he had promptly booked a place for later performance.   
"No way I'm going to sit with stuffy pants, like Sera would say. I think I'm going to grab a drink with Happy instead. Midnight is a great time to watch the play about possession.", Varric declared.  
"It's not about possession.", Isabela corrected. "It's a love story, where everyone is unhappy at end. I have seat for both performances."  
"You are going to watch it twice in one evening?", Abelas asked.  
"Nobody can say I don't support my friends. Sulehn, you looked less nervous at your own wedding.", Isabela remarked.  
"I have butterflies in my stomach.", Sulehn admitted.  
"It will go just fine."  
"I wasn't this nervous when I killed Corypheus.", Sulehn sat on the bed, wringing her hands. "What if I forget my lines?"  
"Vhenan, you _can't_ forget your lines. You have dreamed of this play for months. You hum the melodies awake and while you sleep. You are ready.", Abelas said firmly.  
"Yes.", Sulehn stood up. "I'm going now, before stage fright gets worse. Varric. Please make sure that Abelas finds a clean shirt without lyrium stains, and Isabela has pants. And if Solas shows up, no plaidweave."  
"It's tall order, but I will do my best.", Varric promised.  
"Wish me luck, then.", Sulehn smiled at her friends, hand already on the doorknob. "We will meet again after the premiere."  


 

 


	13. The curtain falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas goes to premiere to congratulate his wife. The play turns out to be tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music!
> 
> The beginning of chapter with Sulehn:  
> The show must go on - cello cover  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsYuHXF_aF0
> 
> Phantom of the (chantry)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvgV4iKjGdE
> 
> For Abelas:  
> Awakening by Brian Tyler from Fast & Furious 7 OST  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIfOXlWEW18

"There you are, serah Lavellan.", the doorman, Juan, smiled. "I was wondering if you truly were going to wait in line like the rest of them, or would you try to sneak through the back entrance."  
"If I had tried to sneak in, you wouldn't have seen me.", Abelas told the human, his arms full of flowers.  
"That's what you always say.", Juan grinned good-naturedly. "But come in. The show hasn't ended yet, but the girls will find you a spot where you can wait. I'm not letting in your friend, though; he will have to go back to main entrance and wait until the boys open doors there. The Armada doesn't want people crashing their party."  
"It was worth trying.", Varric shrugged. "See you inside, Happy."  
"Happy?", Juan shook his head. "Never heard more ill-fitting nickname."  
"Children of Stone have particular sense of humor.", Abelas remarked and walked through the doorway.

 

Sulehn sat in front of the mirror, finishing curling the ringlets on her hair for the third act. She didn't have much time; the song coming from the stage would finish soon and then it would be her turn again. She applied a new coat of lipstick from a small jar, the paintbrush moving with practiced ease.  
She stopped in the middle of the movement when she saw a reflection in her mirror. She blinked, red lips opened in astonishment. The man standing behind her was just like she remembered. Black, thick braid falling down his back and purple eyes like bottomless pools. But the clothes were worst. She had seen that particular outfit - a short brown coat and well-cut trousers, ruffled white shirt and a gentleman's cloak thrown over one shoulder - every day for last three months. Only difference was that he was not wearing the damn mask now, but holding it in his hand.  
"We must talk.", the god's voice echoed in her mind.  
Sulehn was frozen on spot, unable to move. She still held the small brush in her limp fingers. She could hear the chatter of stage hands nearby, the orchestra tuning their instruments, all the sounds of theatre, but they were distant, far away, when Dirthamen's voice filled her thoughts.  
"You.", she whispered.  
"I have come to tell you that your time is drawing near.", Dirthamen said soundlessly and pulled a hourglass from the folds of his cloak. It stood on his open palm, a finely crafted item where grains of white sand ran from upper portion to lower portion.  
Sulehn just stared at the hourglass, unable to say anything.  
"It is yours.", the god said, offering the item to her. She didn't take it, so Dirthamen placed it on the dressing table next to her.  
"How do you know?", she asked soundlessly, looking numbly at the sand.  
"There were exceptions made to those dear to me. I know when death comes for any priest of mine, and Highest One does not die unless I allow it. A secret pact with Falon'Din which was not shared with the rest of our brethren.", Dirthamen's voice whispered in her mind.  
"You are my last living priestess. I do not wish to see you go.", the god walked behind her, caressing her cheek with his fingers. Sulehn found herself looking into his purple eyes through mirror, and she shivered.  
"There is magic in the siren song, a option I came to offer. You can either choose this.", he pointed at the hourglass where sand was running so fast, "or you can choose me. Either way, now is the time to say your goodbyes."  
"You promised you would not hasten my death.", Sulehn said, blinking tears.  
"I'm not one to blame for your passing, and I have nothing to do with your death. I'm merely a messenger.", Dirthamen said, placing his hands on her bare shoulders. "I am not Fen'Harel, telling you lies to have your friendship. We can become many things, but not friends."  
"What do you mean?", Sulehn's voice was barely a whisper. The room was dim now, lit by dancing flames of candles which seemed too weak to pierce the darkness. Dirthamen was standing behind him, a beautiful yet imposing figure in his dark clothes, and her own face in the mirror looked pale and frightened.  
"Fen'Harel calls himself Solas, these days. You hold what remains of his orb, and he watches it with jealousy, merely waiting for his chance to regain it.", Dirthamen said, his hands warm against her skin.  
"The Dread Wolf?", Sulehn forced the word from her lips. She was terrified, now. Although she had not been First, she knew the stories of her clan. Dread Wolf was dangerous, unpredictable, a liar. A trickster.  
She wanted to scream, she wanted to say that he lied, but his outrageous claim made sense in so many ways. Solas' unparalleled knowledge of Fade, how he had kept the mark from killing her, all those wolves in rotunda and his disdain towards the Dalish.. Of course he hated the Dalish, for knowing what he was. It was true. It was all true.  
"If the Dread Wolf has caught my scent, I'm..", Sulehn was genuinely frightened now.  
"You have nothing to fear, little priestess.", Dirthamen said, his words soothing, comforting. "I can protect you. You need only to say a word, and I will not let Dread Wolf have you."  
Sulehn swallowed nervously.  
"There is no reason to be afraid, Sulehn. Every member of the pantheon is different, and so are their servants.", Dirthamen said, his hands warm against her skin. "I don't wish a living weapon like Mythal made of your lover. What I want from you, Sulehn, is your song. You would be the mask I wear, my voice in all things. Think of it. Think of music we could make. My spirit and your voice combined, a perfect harmony echoing from walls lined with lyrium."  
Sulehn swallowed.  
"I know what you desire.", his voice was soft in the darkness. "I know what you yearn. I know that every time you sing in this theatre, you feel the small yet sharp tinge of regret. You miss your true voice, because no matter how well you sing, you know in your heart that it falls short. People compliment you, but your smile is always a bit forced, because you know the difference. It is hard thing to be less than one could be."  
His fingers moved, making small circles on her shoulders as he spoke:  
"It was a noble choice you made. The love you bear is true, and I appreciate your devotion. You wanted to have this life with him so much that you were willing to give up a part of yourself, and although you are happy, the loss still aches. It always will. Your heart yearns for what you truly are, what you were meant to be, and without it, you will break. Just like Abelas did. After your death, what will happen to him? If you choose your death and the Dread Wolf instead of life, who will sing his pain away? He believes he can't go on without you."  
Sulehn couldn't make sense of this, she couldn't think of this, not now, not here. Her mind was a mess, she was so frightened, and she had a play to finish. After the show, she would tell Abelas, and they would fix it, somehow. She still had time. Surely there was still enough time before Dread Wolf caught her. Maybe Merrill - she was First, she knew how to ward him away. Or the Dalish settlement outside Llomerryn. They would help her. Or maybe not, not after they found out she had Fen'Harel's magic inside her skin, and the Wolf was real.  
"I don't know what to do.", she cried out, turning to face Dirthamen. "I don't know what's true anymore. I thought he was my friend. I just can't.."  
"Shush, child.", the god said. "You have little time yet."  
The music coming through the walls ended; it was their cue. Blindly like a child following her father she took the hand Dirthamen offered and followed him to stage. The hourglass was left on the table, the sand inside running slowly but surely.

 

Abelas liked watching the theatre behind the scenes. It reminded him of his brothers and sisters in Mythal's service. Although stage looked chaotic, everyone had a purpose, a role to fill, and they worked together with practiced ease.  
"Stage mages, get ready!", madame Elodie's stage master, messere Frederico commanded. "Make sure there is light on Sulehn's face; keep the mist near the ground. Keep the water in check. Stage hands, start moving the mirror, and be careful with it. Hadmentir will have your hides if you scratch his treasure. Curtains open in ten! Ten - nine - eight -"  
"Ah, serah Lavellan.", madame Elodie smiled at him. "It is good to see young love. Leave the flowers here and come with me. You are just in time to see the highlight of the play."  
Madame Elodie collected her skirts and hurried up the rickety stairs leading to upper level where the lighting crew and the stage mages worked. The music was already starting, and when they reached a platform, madame lifted a finger on her lips to signal silence.

The stage was dark with exception of a veilfire torch burning on each side of the mirror, and when the flames reflected from the surface, colors seemed to ripple. A genuine eluvian, Abelas realized, and his blood started to run cold. The eluvian was open, and water was flowing from the other side, creating a river twisting and turning around the stage. And there was Sulehn, sitting on a small raft. A man was standing behind her, punting the raft forwards with a staff. He had a mask on his face and a hat on his head, but he was elven, and his black hair was tied into a single braid hanging down his back.

Sulehn's expression was startled and looked so real that for a moment Abelas forgot this was a play. Her eyes shone with unshed tears of terror, and the white of her hair and dress formed a stark contrast with the man behind her.  
The moment she started to sing, Abelas understood something was wrong. It was not just Sulehn. It was her gift, or curse. It was siren song, and Abelas had barely time to slam down his barriers before Sulehn's voice took a hold on him, telling her story.

 _"In sleep he sang to me_  
_In dreams he came_  
 _That voice which calls to me_  
 _And speaks my name_  
 _And do I dream again_  
 _For now I find_  
 _The Phantom of the Chantry is there_  
 _Inside my mind._ "  
  
Abelas fought to keep the geas away, but when the man started to sing, his barriers broke. It was not a siren song; it was something far worse, and Abelas felt his will being washed away by compulsion even if he knew he wasn't the intended recipient. Only thing keeping him anchored in the torrent of magic was the Well of Sorrows, and even then, he felt a desperate need to do what was asked of him. Glancing at the humans around him, he saw they were far worse off. Madame Elodie's eyes were shining with admiration, feelings of worship written over her powdered face.

 _"Sing once again with me_  
_Our strange duet_  
 _My power over you_  
 _Grows stronger yet_  
 _And though you turn from me_  
 _To glance behind_  
 _The Phantom of the Chantry is there_  
 _Inside your mind_."

The man stopped the raft, offering his hands to Sulehn to help her up. They stepped on the shore near eluvian, and Sulehn continued, her siren song flooding Abelas' senses. He couldn't do anything but watch her turning to face the masked man for first lines, then turning away from him.

 _"Those who have seen your face / Draw back in fear / I am the mask you wear",_ she sang.  
_"It's me they hear"_ , he answered. _  
_

Phantom grabbed her left hand in his, and turned gently her face towards him with his right hand. The expressions were splendid, Abelas had to admit. Love and desperation fought on Sulehn's, while the Phantom was gentle yet demanding in his superiority. A memory rose in the surface of his fogged mind. Long time ago, Mythal had looked at her people like that. When she had created Well of Sorrows, and called forth the first ones to give themselves into it.

They were singing together now, and joined power of their siren song washed over the audience like waves breaking upon the shore. Abelas scarcely heard the words although he tried to. Some small part of him, bound to cold presence of Well of Sorrows, knew they were important. This was not a song, or a musical. It was a spell. It had to be a spell. Cold sweat was rising on his brow, and he was feeling sick.  
Sulehn stood alone now, and the Phantom circled around her as the choir sang warnings about the Phantom of the Chantry. He threw his hat away, then his cloak. Mist was rising all around them, now. He stopped behind Sulehn, sliding his hands over her body intimately like a lover. His voice was dark caress as he sang:

 _"In all your fantasies  
You always knew  
That man and mystery"_  
_"Were both in you",_ she lifted her eyes to meet his, and a look of acknowledgement passed between the two.

They joined their voices again, facing the audience, and Abelas clung desperately to what was left of his barriers. They couldn't hold, but Mythal held him, still. He drew the icy coldness from Well of Sorrows, pushing himself inside the protection of the geas. He had been bound to will of Mythal for thousands of years, and there could not be any other. All-Mother, please look upon your lost guardian, his lips formed the soundless prayer. Please remember me and my love. Protect me and my love from what I can't fight on my own.

Abelas held on against the compulsion, feeling thoroughly sick now, and watched the masked man light up eluvian. He could see the surface rippling, reflecting colors, and they were just stepping through it when the curtain fell. Mercifully, the music ended and Sulehn took a step back, staying away from the mirror. She cast a spell to guide the river back inside the mirror, and Abelas fell on his knees. He pulled a bucket from the corner and heaved up everything he had eaten that day.

 

"Too many drinks before the show, lad? You wouldn't be the first.", the stage master Frederico said to Abelas, shaking his head. "At least you had the sense to grab a bucket."  
They ushered him to actors' dressing room and made him sit in the chair, while one of the stage hands, a freckled boy with wide shoulders, brought him a mug of water and some ginger to chew. Abelas was holding his head down, trying to draw deep breaths. It had been ages since he had been called to resist a compulsion like that and even now, he was not entirely sure what had happened.  
"Here you go, serah.", the boy said cheerily, pushing the cosmetics aside to make room on the table. There was a sound of breaking glass.  
"Andraste's holy knickers!", the boy cursed and shook his head. "Who in his right mind leaves a hourglass on the edge of the table? I'll get a broom and dustpan."  
Abelas paid him no mind, taking the glass of water. It helped, a bit. The taste of ginger always brought him unpleasant memories of sea voyage. What he needed was a lyrium potion to replenish his spent mana, but this would have to do. Lyrium wasn't commonly available outside Tevinter or Circles of Magi, and even though a man could surely find it from Llomerryn, it needed time and coin he did not possess now.  
The boy had returned with dustpan, and he was cleaning up the white sand on the floor.  
"You are serah Lavellan, are you not? Sulehn's fellow?"  
"Not a fellow. Husband.", Abelas said, his voice sharper than he meant to. It sat ill with him to sit here and try to gather his strength while she was in danger, even if he knew he was no use for her until the world stopped spinning.  
"Whatever. I'm sorry. I think this was hers. It says so on the top.", the boy said, looking embarrassed. He was holding a broken hourglass in his hand. The upper part had been fragmented. There were pieces missing, and the sand was all over the floor. Only a few pinches of sand remained in the upper part of the glass. It was finely made piece, crafted from blackest wood, white sand and magic with skill no longer seen in this Age.  
"Mythal'enaste.", Abelas whispered, horror coming over him. He snatched the hourglass from the boy, turning it in his hands. Sulehn's name was written on the top of it, carved in golden letters on the black wood. He had never seen one like this, but he had heard the stories. Stories from sentinels who had trained him, who had accompanied Mythal when Falon'Din went mad with his desire for power. They had told him how Falon'Din had room full of hourglasses like this one, and when the Creators came for him, he had written name of their followers on those. Dozens of gods' best-loved had fallen on that day, their passing signaled by broken glass and sand.  
He had no time, and no mana left. Abelas pulled his sleeve up and sliced his wrist open against the broken edge of the glass. Blood welled on the wound, staining the glass and sand inside, and he pulled more forth with his magic. A wet sand could not pass through the narrow opening.  
"By the Maker!", the boy's voice was terrified. In his urgency to stop the flow of sand, Abelas had not paid any thought to his audience. "You are a blood mage!"  
The boy opened his mouth to scream, but he was too slow. Abelas was much faster.

 

It took too many precious minutes to hide the body under the floorboards, although it was nothing but a wizened corpse beyond recognition after Abelas had drawn the blood out to replenish his mana. Killing innocent bystanders sat ill with him, but it was a price he was willing to pay for his freedom and hers. There were Templars in Darsmuid, and blood magic was something Gana of Llomerryn could not overlook.  
He would find Sulehn, and they would leave Llomerryn tonight, go somewhere else where it was safe. Fen'Harel could deal with the elvhen mage and his siren song; Sulehn was Abelas' priority. He had to find a way to repair the broken hourglass, to save her from Falon'Din's shadow over her.

The play was finished, the rounds of applause over and the actors were talking with the members of audience. Abelas forced his steps to slow down. He lifted up his bouquet from the side table behind the stage, arranging it to cover the gaping wound on his wrist. The broken hourglass was tied inside a silk scarf with all the pieces he had found. He held the bundle in his left hand, keeping the glass sideways to make sure no sand would either go through the opening or fall from the hole.  
He recognized the Gana exchanging words with madame Elodie, and Roberto, the man playing the second male lead, was chatting with them amiably. The mood was not as cheery near the side door, where Ianto, whom Isabela called "That Crooked Bastard Who Might Kill You in Your Sleep" was arguing heatedly with Ser Tadeus and his sailors. Felicita Armada was famous of infighting.

Sulehn stood little ways from the angry pirates, listening at something Lachlan Poole was saying. The elvhen mage - he had to be elvhen, no elf of this Age could command that kind of magic - was standing next to her, his back towards Abelas. It had been long time since Abelas had been afraid, but it was different now. He wasn't afraid of himself, but for her.

Ianto's voice was rising and drawing the attention from the people gathered in the room.  
"I will see you dead for that, you dog-lover!", he yelled at Ser Talos, who promptly hit him on face.  
Sulehn had turned to see what was going on and she saw Abelas behind the pirates. A smile lit her face and Abelas felt immeasurable relief knowing that whatever had happened, she was still her, not rendered mindless by compulsion. He answered her smile and started to walk towards her, keeping careful eye on the elvhen mage who was still talking with Poole.

 

The argument between Ianto and Talos had broken into full-blown fight in mere minutes, blocking his way. Abelas picked his way through the fray, dodging the blows meant for others and drawing the Fade around him to shield him from attacks.  
He was just getting near Sulehn when Isabela stumbled against him.  
"Make way, Abelas!", the pirate yelled. "I've been waiting to carve a new hole for Ianto for some time, now."  
Abelas had no time to rebuttal. Isabela jumped into fray, only to be thrown backwards by Ianto's first mate in mere seconds. Reflexively, Abelas reached to catch her before she hit the floor, shielding her fall with his body.  
It was only after Abelas was laying on the floor, with Isabela on the top of him, when he remembered the hourglass. He turned on his side, pushing Isabela away, and ripped open the bundle of silk. The hourglass had landed upside down, and a pinch of bloody sand had just fell on the lower part, staining the white sand red. He stared at the broken hourglass and just when he was rising to his knees, he saw Sulehn's face twisting in pain. She started to fall, and he leaped to catch her. The world seemed to stop in the middle of the movement. And it did.

 

When he landed on the floor on his knees, holding Sulehn in his arms, he noticed nobody else was moving. Everyone around them were frozen in time, stopped. Except the mage.  
"You were not supposed to be part of this.", the elvhen mage said, looking at Abelas. "And this was not supposed to happen so soon. Idiot."  
Ignoring Abelas, the mage kneeled on one knee, addressing Sulehn who was breathing in shallow, pained breaths. Her eyes were open, but glazed with pain.  
"Now is the time, little priestess. Someone broke Falon'Din's hourglass, and Dread Wolf will be here soon to collect his anchor like he harvested Mythal's power after murdering her."  
"What are you? How you dare to claim something like that about Mythal?", Abelas demanded.  
"I am not here for you, priest. Have you not noticed any difference when you call upon the Well?", the man said, taking off his mask and looking at Abelas.  
There was Mythal on his face, the shape of his chin and the curve of his mouth. Although Abelas had spent his long years in the temple, no sentinel would be allowed to serve without knowing who were trusted by Mythal. Elgar'nan, yes, but her children were favored above all else.  
"Dirthamen.", Abelas said, looking at the purple eyes which held secrets of Ages. His presence here explained... everything. Instinctively, he pulled Sulehn closer against himself.  
  
"The moment to choose is now.", Dirthamen told Sulehn. "This spell will not hold but a moment or two longer. This is the last living moment of yours, and it is rapidly fading away. Will you die or will you come with me?"  
"I don't want to die.", Sulehn whispered. Her breath was warm against Abelas' skin, but he could feel the magic surrounding them weakening, the strings holding it together - holding safe her from Falon'Din's spell of death - snapping one by one.  
"If you pledge yourself into my service, you will live. We leave this place, and you will leave your former life behind you.", Dirthamen said, standing up, offering his hand.  
"Abelas?", Sulehn asked, turning her gaze at him.  
He shook his head. He wanted to say so many things, but none of the words felt right. He did not want this. He did not want to be left alone in this strange, horrible world where nothing was real except her. He couldn't go on without her. He _wouldn't_.  
"I will come and find you.", he whispered in her ear, seeking her mouth. She opened her lips, kissing her, and her tears mixed with his. For one last, desperate moment, he held her warmth, trying to commit every detail to memory, but then he felt another sharp snap in the spell surrounding them.  
"Go.", he said, trying uselessly to swallow his tears. Sulehn rose up and took the hand Dirthamen offered. Holding her by shoulders, Dirthamen pressed a kiss on her brow, and Abelas saw the black mist of power pouring from the god into Sulehn. The runes of binding flashed upon her skin and she made a small, hurting noise which cut Abelas' heart. God of Secrets smiled at her and pulled the shadows around them, shielding them from Abelas' eyes. There was a flash of light around eluvian, and they were gone.

He remained behind on his knees, alone again amongst people frozen in time. Slowly, his movements showing every burden of his long years, Abelas stood up and collected the pieces of hourglass.

He left the flowers spread over the floor.

 


	14. Dwarves and elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela finds a great self-help book for Abelas.  
> Divine guidance earns Solas a kick in the groin. (Maybe he should not have used the excellent Fereldan example).  
> Varric offers valuable insight.
> 
> Meanwhile in the Deep Roads, Elric Cadash learns there are worse things than dying in the hands of darkspawn. Lunatic elves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep Roads medley is simple and tailored to their primitive audience.  
> DJ Bobo - Everybody https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0JrmT3FjBE  
> and "Somebody dance with me" https://youtu.be/rAnmLLRphqo
> 
> (fans of Wrath can blame Elgar'nan for introducing Dirthamen to 90s eurodance when he was younger. Dirthamen knows there is a song for every idiot. Including his father.)

"How to break up with your abomination. A guide to survive breakup and move on after your partner's secret agenda made the world burn. Written by Harrett Gawke.", Isabela read out loud. "I'll take this one. Maker knows he needs it."  
"It's five sovereigns.", the bookseller said.  
"Are you kidding me?", Isabela asked.  
"It's aimed for very limited customer base.", the man shrugged. "Gotta make my profits somehow."  
"All right, I'm giving in, you scum.", Isabela grimaced and handed him five sovereigns. "This better be a good one."

"I got you something, Abelas.", Isabela announced as she sat down and opened the book. "A real gem. A guidebook on human courting. You liked those, didn't you? The author has written a list of things you should do to make yourself feel better. 1. Remind yourself that you still have a future."  
Abelas gave her a dark look.  
"Is this supposed to be helpful or merely to point out the very thing I do not want to think about?" , he asked sharply, staring at the broken pieces of glass spread over his desk.  
"Just listen. 2. Do not sink into depths of despair. Even though your partner is gone and you might feel like a complete moron for not foreseeing what happened, the world is full of single mages with less baggage.", Isabela continued. "3. A change of scenery will do you a world of good, especially considering the sheer numbers of people who want to ask stupid questions. It's not like he is coming back, so waiting is futile. Take your friends and relatives with you so they don't fall prey to weird blood magic rituals of madmen, and just go. Western Orlais is nice--"  
"Read the last part again.", Abelas suddenly commanded.  
" It's not like he is coming back, so waiting is futile. Take your friends and relatives with you so they don't fall prey to weird blood magic rituals of madmen.", Isabela repeated, delighted. It was working! Something was finally getting through to him! Varric was right when he claimed there was a book for everyone.  
"I need your ship to take me to Wycome.", Abelas informed her curtly.  
"But you hate ships!", Isabela blurted out in astonishment.  
"I do.", Abelas said, his lips a thin, disgusted line. "But Clan Lavellan is there. I need a drop of their blood to scry for Sulehn's location."

 --

"I can't believe this.", Solas shook his head, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself as the wind howled in his ears. "Are you out of your mind, Abelas? I told you there is a place for elvhen! You have other options than chasing a clan filled with sorry shadows of our past!"  
The sentinel didn't answer. He could not, because he was bent over the ship's side, being violently sick. The raindrops battered the deck of Siren's Call, and Varric had long ago announced that he was not going to venture outside his cabin before the rain ended.  
"I understand it hurts, but you must acknowledge the truth. Sulehn was not real. She was not your wife. The pirate wedding was a joke.You were not bonded.", Solas said forcefully. "It was just a dream, Abelas."  
Abelas disagreed vehemently, but a lurch in his stomach kept him from answering. He kept his eyes tightly closed, not wanting to see the waves rising and falling everywhere. It was _disgusting,_ and Fen'Harel took advantage of his vulnerable state to continue his nagging _._  
"This world is not right.", Solas told him. "You know it, Abelas. This is just a nightmare, a figment of Fade. The creatures inhabiting the ruins of Elvhenan are mere shadows. They are so diminished that they lack the basic capabilities to truly feel and understand. I do not doubt that Sulehn loved you, as much as she could while lacking the range and depth of emotion a true elvhen would have, but a man cannot build a life with fleeing shadow. She soothed your pain, and I understand you felt sentimentally beholden to her for that, but you must admit the facts."  
"It is not true.", Abelas snapped, his annoyance with Fen'Harel momentarily overcoming the horrible sick feeling. "I promised Sulehn I would find her."  
"A word given to faithful mabari is not an oath even when the one swearing is a Fereldan dog lord.", Solas stated firmly. "Even though the lord might find his dog easy on eye and it's personality pleasing, there is never any doubt of precedence between them."  
His satisfaction of finding a convincing argument was ruined by blooming red pain obscuring his vision. Solas cried out, falling on his knees. Furiously, he blinked the tears from his eyes and reached for Mythal's power, grasping the Well of Sorrows and the ties which bound all her servants.  
"You will not hurt me again, and you will listen what I say.", Solas commanded, although it came out more like a groan. He did not like taking away anyone's free will, but this was simply unacceptable. He hadn't expected Abelas to listen the truth so soon - it was a lot to ask - but there were limits even to his patience.  
"What are you doing?", Isabela ran to them.  
"He kicked me in the groin!", Solas snapped angrily.  
Abelas, who was bound by the power of the Well, gave him a look filled with hatred and strode to cabin he shared with Varric. The sentinel slammed door shut, and Solas did not see him again until Siren's Call arrived to Wycome harbor.

\--

As shemlen cities went, Wycome was much more orderly than Llomerryn. Abelas found himself missing the flamboyant colors and jewelry Rivaini favored. The citizens of Wycome were somber Andrastians, who did not welcome pirates or elves in their city. They gave Abelas a wide berth, since the vallaslin made them think him as a Dalish, but the humans paid no respect to Solas who was just another knife-ear to them.  
Varric had found them accommodations in a shady inn near alienage. In Llomerryn scale, Abelas rated it somewhat respectable establishment, and in any case, it was a relief to feel a solid ground under his feet again.

"So, Happy. How are you holding up?", Varric asked after Isabela had left to gather information about Clan Lavellan's whereabouts and Solas had excused himself to go to sleep. They had rented two rooms, and since Abelas did not want to share with Isabela or Fen'Harel, he was stuck with the dwarf.  
Abelas thought of giving a spiteful reply to Varric's comment, but decided against it. What had happened was not Varric's fault, and the durgen'len and Isabela had been good friends to him, accompanying him to this journey without a question.  
"Not well.", he admitted slowly.  
"Figured out that much.", Varric nodded. "Chuckles giving you hard time?"  
"We have a disagreement.", Abelas replied. "He thinks I should return to my people. To old ways. And he claims that Sulehn.. that it wasn't real."  
Varric seemed to sense the hurt behind his friend's words, because he replied:  
"Listen, Happy. The tune Chuckles is dancing to is the very same song Orzammar dwarves keep singing about us, the misled surfacers. They sit there in their precious city and sneer at us, telling each other how fundamentally different and less we, their lost brethren, truly are. It's nugshit. It's always easier to come up with reasons to find fault in someone else and go on lamenting the bitter fate than build something new. But you are the one to decide what you think. You decide what's real for you.", the dwarf pointed out. "I'm perfectly happy without stone sense and a seat in the Assembly. I like my life this way. And I thought you liked yours, too."  
"I did.", Abelas said.  
"There you have it, Happy. Now all you need to do is to save the girl and take her home.", Varric patted his shoulder. "This has all the required components for happy ending."  
Abelas turned to look at the durgen'len.  
"How can you say that?", he asked. "Dirthamen bound Sulehn into his service so she would not die by Falon'Din's curse. He took her last living moment. Even if we find her family and they donate the blood I need to find her, it doesn't change anything."  
"I thought the whole deal with the magical hourglass was measuring her time.", Varric shrugged. "I'm not a mage, but if this was a story and I was writing it, the simplest way to undo a death curse would be to fix the hourglass. Go wherever the ancient elves made those things and just fill it again, with a lot more sand. Make this god of hers to wait longer for that 'last living moment'. It's a sliding concept, you know. A plot hole. Dirthamen might be a good singer, but he isn't a writer."  
Abelas stared at the durgen'len.  
"Master Tethras.", Abelas said solemnly. "I will name our firstborn after you for this."  
"Just promise I'll get to see Sulehn's face when you tell her that.", Varric chuckled warmly.

 

\--

Elric Cadash had been smuggling lyrium from the Deep Roads long enough to know the payment was crap compared to strange shit which went on there. Getting eaten by darkspawn wasn't the worst thing which could happen. The saddest fates were those poor bastards who saw something and survived it. He had never expected it to happen to him.

"Angmar was a sodding liar.", Galder had turned pale under his beard as he heard the hissing and growling sounds of darkspawn horde echoing in the tunnels. "We never should have came here. No lyrium is worth of entering the lair of broodmothers."  
"I told you so, you bronto shit!", Elric told in low, angry voice. "They have cut our way back."  
"And our only way out, nug humper.", Getrude grimaced. "Have you lost your stone sense? This tunnel curves, leading us into heart of the thaig."  
She was always like that. A damned Miner Caste castoff, acting like she was better than them.  
"Ancestors have mercy on us.", the youngest of them, Soren, wailed. "Angmar promised there would be a mountain of gold for this."  
"You are an idiot to believe Angmar would ever let you see a fraction of coin the nobles would have paid. Find the halls of Paragon Garen, and you will be richly rewarded?", Elric spat on the floor.  
"Quiet, you fools.", Gertrude lifted up her hand. "I think I heard something. Like a chest being opened. I know that one better than my mother's voice.."

The dwarves crept forwards, carrying the sacks full of lyrium on their backs, and came upon a very odd sight. There was an ancient storage chest gaping open on the floor, and two elves were arguing over an old map spread over the table. Or at least Elric thought they were, until he realized they weren't talking. They were gesturing at each other and pointing on different locations on the map, but there was no sound.  
"Bloody elf guts!", Galder shook his head. "And I thought we were only ones stupid enough to venture this far."  
"Carta doesn't suffer competing treasure hunters, you know?", Gertrude said threateningly, sliding her hands on her daggers. "And I don't like surfacers stealing our things."  
The elven man looked down on his nose at them.  
"I have no interest in the bare bones of your empire, durgen'len.", he said.  
"Do you even know this place is filled with darkspawn?", Soren demanded. "They are on our heels! We will never get out!"  
"The map is useless.", the elven woman said to man. "Like I said, too many tunnels have collapsed, and we are almost out of lyrium. Dwarves could be useful. They sense which passages are still intact, and they could process the lyrium for us."  
He considered her words for a moment.  
"Your suggestion does have merit. Their belongings reek of lyrium, and having a meat shield between us and the mindless ones never hurts."  
"If you think you're going to rob us, think again.", Elric took his axe from his back.  
The elven man sighed, looking annoyed.  
"Why it's always killing with you people? If you want to die, you don't have to wait for long. The darkspawn will be here very soon. I'm willing to offer you a job."  
"What kind of job?", Elric asked automatically.  
"Your talents in my service for saving your lives.", the man stated simply.  
"How?", Galder snorted.  
"I'm in.", Soren said quickly. The growls were coming from the corridor behind them, now.  
The man looked at the rest of their group, arching his eyebrows.  
"You save our lives, we'll help you out.", Elric decided for all of them. They were going to die anyway.  
"Good.", the elf said, turning to the woman. "Let's keep it _very_ simple. My new servants don't look graceful and fine details are wasted on the mindless ones."  
"Keep what very simple?", Gertrude demanded to know.  
When female elf explained their plan to them, Elric knew this was it. He had breathed too much lyrium dust and gone mad.  
"You have to be kidding me.", Galder said.

 

The elves were lunatics. Elric already repented agreeing to their mad plan, but he couldn't quite convince himself to die gloriously instead. The darkspawn had cornered them into a great underground hall, the heart of Garen Thaig, and he could see the tentacles of broodmothers moving in the air. Their saggy forms were horrible - Elric just knew he could never enjoy the sight of bare tits again. Their escape was cut off. Broodmothers on the west side, darkspawn on north and south, and a flaming chasm of lava to east.  
"This will have to do.", the elf man said, climbing on crumbled stone platform which was slightly above floor.  
"Get in here.", the woman commanded the dwarves.  
She raised her left hand up in the air, and odd green shimmer appeared around them. It made the lyrium veins and precious stones in the roof sparkle.  
Elric scrambled after them, staring at the horde of angry darkspawn closing in, and whispered a silent prayer to Stone. He was not educated man, but he was sure that agreeing to mad elves' plan was against the tradition.

 

Elric took a step right, a step left and whirled clumsily around, trying his best to avoid looking at his comrades. They weren't eager to look at him either. Galder was particularly bad, or maybe it was just because he was dancing behind the elves. The knife-ears were sashaying their hips and prancing around with effortless grace, like they weren't even trying. Gertrude was clapping her hands above her head and looking very uncomfortable in her heavy armor.  
_"Everybody here tonight / we will never start a fight._ ", woman's voice poured into his ears, sweet like honey. Elric had never seen darkspawn looking so serene and happy. The sight made him break into cold sweat. He didn't know where the music was coming from, and he didn't want to.  
_"Everybody move your feet / to the rhythm of this beat. Everybody sing this song / of people having fun_.", the elves sang with practiced ease.  
The darkspawn waved their arms back and forth in the air, and Soren on Elric's left side was getting on the mood, making damned little twirls of happiness. The broodmothers were smiling, their wide bloody mouths showing too many teeth and the damned tentacles were making waves.  
The elves looked at each other, and the woman nodded. The music coming out from nowhere picked up pace, the calm changing into frenzied beat. She flashed a grin at darkspawn, and raised her voice. Elric felt dizzy and his feet seemed to move against his will.  
_"I got this feeling / somebody dance with me!"_ , her voice and every gesture pleaded, igniting a lust Elric did not know he felt. He liked his women short and curvy. The darkspawn had forgotten all about the rest of them.  
The elf woman descended down from the platform, dancing in time with the beat. Her steps took her to the very edge of the chasm.She repeated her plea, and Elric's feet were already moving towards her, but the man grabbed his wrist.  
"Resist.", the elf commanded, his voice somehow different. The sound of it vibrated through Elric's skull.  
"Now, durgen'len.", their new employer addressed them. "Push the mindless ones into chasm. They won't notice a thing, as long as you are quick enough."


	15. Head over heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas gets an admirer.

"Everybody was Kung Fu fighting, those kicks were fast as lightning.” Soren sang quietly under his breath. "In fact it was a little bit frightening, but they fought with expert timing!"  
"Not you too!” Galder grumbled.  
"We will never speak of that again.” Gertrude told him. "Ever."  
Sulehn looked at Dirthamen, whose face was a perfect mask of serenity. She was starting to suspect that God of Secrets had a sense of humour, or the music in Arlathan had been truly atrocious.  
"They were funky dwarven men, from funky dwarven town.” Soren hummed despite protests of his comrades. "They were chopping darkspawn up, they were chopping them down. It's an ancient elven art, and everybody knew their part. From a faint into a slip, and kicking from the hip."  
"I think you have a convert.” Sulehn remarked voicelessly.  
Dirthamen smirked.  
"Sadly, elvhen religion has never been expansionist, but it is something to consider.” he replied amusedly. "I need new ravens every now and then, and nobody would ever expect a dwarf."  
Sulehn was mildly concerned.  
"Did I give you new ideas for world domination?” she asked. "I didn't mean to."  
"If you think my goals have anything to do with world domination, you are sorely mistaken.” Dirthamen replied.  
"What is it what you want, then?” Sulehn asked.  
"My wishes aren't so different from yours, little priestess.” Dirthamen remarked. "Few of them are even compatible."

They walked in silence for some time before Sulehn said:  
"I would find it much easier to like you if you told me what you want. And since I'm stuck with you for all eternity, I would prefer to like you. For my own sake."  
”You had barely seen your husband before you decided to like him, and we’ve known each other much longer than one passing glance. I’m _hurt_.”, Dirthamen replied.   
Now she was certain he was playing with her.  
“I need more than that.”, Sulehn replied stubbornly. “I know you like silence and secrets, but I led a world-wide organisation for three years without speaking a single word. If you expect me to start up an organized religion for you, I have to know what is our goal. After Solas, I’m allergic to gods lurking nearby with hidden motives.”  
“Very well. We are searching for last two Old Gods before darkspawn find and corrupt them.”  
Sulehn stopped where she stood, her eyes blazing.  
“By Maker’s balls, Dirthamen! Why couldn’t you say it earlier! We spent almost two months wandering around the Deep Roads and wading through darkspawn. I know the exact spot where one of them sleeping in Western Approach. There _is a damn ladder_ leading down to creature. Only reason why it hasn’t been killed yet is because the ground isn’t stable enough and Wardens feared the cave would collapse on them.”  
“Yes, but then we wouldn’t have dwarves who are quite good at detecting and fixing weak stone structures. The female one with red moustache is always going on about how she is miner caste.”, Dirthamen said patiently.  
Sulehn sighed frustratedly.  
“I think I hate you a bit.”  
“I know you do, love.”, Dirthamen patted her head. “It’s so irritating to feel outplayed, isn’t it? But don’t worry. You will get better in few thousand years. Our next stop is Falon’Din’s temple in Nevarra. We need a new hourglass.”

 

\--

 

"I should have known Hadmentir was fishy.", Isabela said as they walked along the well-trodden path leading to woods. "No mortal man could keep his silence in bed with me. I'm never picking up men from singalong night again. Even though he had swaggering hips and the most gorgeous ass in leather pants I've ever seen. Figures."  
"Is there anyone you haven't been with, Rivaini?", Varric sighed.  
"Of current company? Abelas.", Isabela replied. "That's mostly because he keeps turning me down."  
Her words visibly registered in Solas' and Varric's minds at the same time. Both men, from sudden and unsaid agreement, proceeded to stare at the trees and rocks on the side of the road, careful not to meet each other's eyes.  
"What?", Isabela complained. "It's not like I didn't have fun with you too. I think all my partners are special, just in different ways."  
"I know you like to discuss human courting, Isabela, but now it's not the time.", Abelas said sharply. "The Dalish view it differently, and I do not wish to antagonize them."  
"The Dalish are--", Solas began.  
"My relatives through marriage.", Abelas stated sternly. "I took the name of their clan. Their cooperation is necessary to find Sulehn, and you, _as her oldest friend_ , should support my efforts to cultivate their goodwill."  
Solas looked like he wanted to say something else, but he closed his mouth instead.  
"I thought so.", Abelas said smugly. "Priesthood is path which can be walked to both directions, Solas. Since you were so fond of dog examples from Ferelden, which one you think is better to have at your side? A well-cared dog which has the trust and companionship of it's owner, or a bitter one who knows only the stick and pain? Even leashed dogs can bite."  
"I don't get the dog thing. But it just occurred to me that I'm the only one who has had a mother-in-law.", Isabela remarked. "They can cause a world of trouble if they want to, so be careful, Abelas. How do you think she'll react to ancient son-in-law?"  
"I'm not that old.", Abelas corrected her. "I was one of the youngest sentinels when we began our watch."  
"How old are you, then?", Varric asked.  
"I was born 4672 FA.", Abelas replied. "Three thousand six hundred seventy-eight years ago."  
Varric and Isabela looked at each other.  
"You might want to gloss over that little detail.", Varric advised. "It's weird."

 

\--

 

Mahanon Lavellan kicked the bloody wheel of his grandmother's aravel. How he hated the thing! Hated, hated! He hated each one of carefully carved spokes and he hated paint covering it and he hated the long-dead craftsmaster who had gotten the idea of trying to gain grandmother's favor by building her a fancy aravel. And he hated the fate which had saddled him with fixing the monstrosity.  
"Intruders coming from the west.", one of the hunters shouted.  
"I'm coming!", Mahanon shouted, thanking the Creators for a break. He grabbed his bow and arrows, and ran to assembling group of hunters before the old witch saw him leave. 

"One Dalish, a flat-ear, shemlen woman with no pants and durgen'len.", the scout reported to warleader. "They don't appear to be aggressive, but they are armed."  
"Take positions. Mahanon, you will approach them and find out what they want.", the warleader commanded.  
"Why me?", Mahanon asked unhappily.  
"Just do it.", the old man replied and gestured to others. They all vanished into trees, and Mahanon stayed behind. Sighing, he took an arrow from his quiver and drew the bowstring taut, starting to walk to meet them.

"Stop!", he demanded, stepping out from the cover of trees. "This is our wood, and we do not welcome guests."  
He deemed the hooded man in golden armor as their leader and worst threat, so he pointed his arrow at him. Mahanon was sure some of his clansmen were distracted by shem woman because she didn't have pants - preposterous! - but he had never been one to pay attention to such things.  
"Not guests.", the hooded man said, his voice rich and deep. He pulled down his hood, and Mahanon's eyes widened. Not because he had Mythal's vallaslin on his forehead, but because he was the most beautiful thing Mahanon had ever seen. Mahanon just stared his long, angular features, and golden eyes which seemed to hold some unknown sorrow, and he wanted nothing but to take it away. Feeling his knees go weak, Mahanon helplessly wondered if this was what falling in love at first sight was like.  
"I claim the rights of a kin.", the stranger said, looking at him. "I am called Abelas, and I am bonded to Sulehn of clan Lavellan."  
"What?", Mahanon cried out, the disappointment of hearing that the stranger was already taken fighting against the shock of hearing the name he so casually uttered. "You are my sister's mate?"  
The man nodded gracefully.  
"Grandmother will have a fit.", Mahanon said, evil glee making him feel all warm inside. He lowered his bow. "I'm sure she'll want to hear everything. Come, brother. I will take you to our camp."

 

To say Abelas caused a stir was an understatement. It was more like a chaos. Although Mahanon would have been much more pleased to hear Abelas was a single, there were advantages of being able to call him a brother. First, it irked grandmother enormously, and second, the elders couldn't exclude him from conversation. Or interrogation, it was more like. The three of them; Keeper, warleader and grandmother sat on the bench, watching the golden stranger like hawks.  
"So, young man.", grandmother began. "If you are bonded to my granddaughter, where she is?"  
"Sulehn has gone missing and I require your assistance in finding her.", Abelas stated calmly. "I gave her my word I would follow."  
Mahanon wanted to swoon, but he kept his expression mildly interested, watching the discussion.  
"An admirable goal.", warleader said gruffly. "But how did you two meet? Where is your clan? I do not remember seeing you in Arlathvhen."  
"I have spent most of my life deep in the Arbor Wilds. Me and my brothers and sisters were tasked with holy duty of guarding Mythal's temple. We met when Inquisition came to defile the sacred Well of Sorrows."  
Oh, this was priceless. Both Keeper and warleader turned to look at grandmother, whose mouth was a thin line. A chuckle escaped from Mahanon's lips. He could not help it. Grandmother turned to him instantly, her voice lashing out like a whip.  
"Do you find something amusing, Mahanon?", she asked.  
"I just wonder, grandmother. How is that despite all your guidance and knowledge, your daughters and their daughters keep repeating the same sin of sacriledge? Are you truly fit to teach our da'len?"  
"You may judge my authority after you manage to do your own duty to our clan, Mahanon. I've yet to see a single child of yours in the circle of learning.", grandmother's tone was sharp enough to cut through ironbark.  
Mahanon flinched and decided that it was best to stay silent.  
Keeper Deshanna sighed, looking every one of her almost seventy years.  
"I am deeply sorry for your loss. I doubt we can make up for the destruction Sulehn caused to your clan and to our People as whole, but we will try. As a Keeper, I recognize your right to Vir Sulevanin."  
"Are you certain?", grandmother cut in. "We have no proof that he speaks the truth."  
"Emmue, I value your counsel and guidance, and you are above reproach. But I know your granddaughter. A child born of sacriledge and cursed from birth, then revered as the Herald of shemlen faith. If this man tells us Sulehn has defiled Mythal's temple and destroyed a holy treasure of our People, I fear I must believe him. Only thing I do not understand why Dirthamen decided to curse us with a child such as her. She acts like Herald of Fen'Harel, sowing discord and ruin everywhere she goes."  
"Excuse me, Keeper, but this doesn't add up!", Mahanon rose to defend his sister. "If Sulehn had done something so terrible, why this man would ever have agreed to bond with her?"  
"The siren song, of course.", grandmother said acidly. "She can make him do anything she wants."  
"She wouldn't do something like--",  
"Silence, Mahanon.", Deshanna commanded, turning to Abelas. "What is what you require from us to fulfill Vir Sulevanin?"  
"Only one thing, and you will never meet me or her again.", Abelas replied, a disgust clearly written on his face. "I want her brother, Mahanon, to assist me on my quest to find Sulehn."  
"Agreed.", the Keeper said quickly. The elders looked relieved for getting out so easily, but Mahanon could not believe what had just happened.  
"Gather your belongings. We leave immediatly.", Abelas ordered the stunned man.

 

Mahanon stood inside his aravel, trying to decide what to take and what to leave behind. For a man who had spent all his life making beautiful things, it was horrible task. Finally he stomped back to outside where Abelas was waiting with his odd party.  
"What should I pack?"  
"I thought the Dalish were accustomed to moving from one location to another.", the flat-ear noted sarcastically.  
"Do you think I chose June's vallaslin just because it gives a smoldering gaze? I'm not a hunter. I'm the craftmaster of my clan.", Mahanon replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "A master without his tools is nothing. I can't decide what to bring if I don't know what you expect from me."  
"Craftsmaster?", Abelas asked. Mahanon was not prepared to hear actual interest in stranger's voice. "Show me something you have done." 

"These are my best pieces.", Mahanon said, opening a sturdy little box filled with hay. With careful fingers, he dug into hay, and lifted up a tiny figure of dragon, placing it on the table inside his aravel. The dragon was followed by equally tiny wolf, which had a mischevious grin, then a imposing figure of a man and all the rest of them.  
"A whole set of Creators, sculpted from crystal.", Mahanon said, his voice proud. "It took months to get refraction right on Elgar'nan."  
He lit up a candle, and when light touched Elgar'nan, the figure started to sparkle in shades of yellow and orange, looking like it was burning.   
"You are not a craftmaster.", Abelas let out a breath, looking at the piece. "You are an artist."  
Varric looked at Isabela, who shook her head.   
"I think I'm going to ask from that good-looking hunter if there is room in his aravel.", Isabela said casually. "I think our journey has been cancelled until further notice."

 


	16. Falon'Din's temple, part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crypts of Grand Necropolis.

Sulehn woke up to touch on her shoulder.  
"You were crying in your sleep.” Dirthamen's violet eyes were looking at her. "Is the Dread Wolf trying to break through my barriers again?"  
She shook her head and wiped her wet face on her sleeve, sparing a glance at dwarves who were sleeping soundly. It was never fully dark in the Deep Roads. The dim glow of dying embers in their fire and the soft blue shine of lyrium were enough for elven eyes to see.  
"What is it, then?” his voice in her mind was not unkind.  
"I miss my Abelas.” Sulehn felt the tightness in her throat, and was somewhat grateful that she didn't need to try to speak. "I dreamed I was home with him."  
The expression on god's face softened, and unexpectedly, he put his arm around her shoulders. Sulehn, unprepared for compassion, felt tears welling in her eyes again, and blinked them away. He smelled like dried flowers and magic.  
"I know so well what you mean, little priestess.” Dirthamen said softly. She startled to notice he had spoken aloud this time, his voice tired and lacking its usual melody.  
"You do?” she asked.  
Dirthamen looked at her and shook his head slowly.  
"Why else I would do all this?” he asked. "There is only one reason which is important enough. Words could never capture something like that."  
His finger brushed against the scar on her forehead, and for a moment, he let her _see_. It was hard for Sulehn to understand the vastness of god's mind, but from all his thoughts and memories, one thing shone brighter than anything else.  
"Oh.” she said in small voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."  
"Grief and loss are universal.” Dirthamen remarked and withdrew his touch, closing his mind from her. "If my kind was immune to it, things would have gone much differently."  
The aura of sadness surrounding them felt like heavy, wet mist. Sulehn rested her head against his shoulder and thought how the being the high priestess of ancient elvhen god was nothing like she had ever imagined.   
“I still think your personnel management skills need a lot of work, but I will help you to do this.” she sighed. “You should have told me earlier. We could have skipped the whole ordeal with you pretending to be an actor in Madame Elodie’s theatre, hourglass and death spells.”  
“I know.” Dirthamen said and ruffled her hair. “But it was fun. In Elvhenan, they never let me participate in sing-along-nights. I’m thinking of starting a band.”  
Sulehn groaned, and her god smirked.

\--

God of Secrets’ party had risen up from the Deep Roads. They were having a strategical meeting in an ancient crypt located in Grand Necropolis of Nevarra.  
“The entrance to Falon’Din’s temple is here. It’s only accessible through the Grand Necropolis.”, Dirthamen’s slender fingers touched a spot on a map he had spread over a coffin. “We need to break through the doors, collect a few associates on our way, and get out of temple before Dread Wolf finds us. He’s snapping at our heels, but he travels on ground. The entrance he is most likely to use is this one."  
“All right.” Sulehn nodded. “Any orders?”  
“Your job is to arrange a distraction. In next fifteen minutes, if you please. Gertrude and Galder are going to break down the wall for me, and you need to keep Dread Wolf occupied in the meantime. Don’t lose, don’t get caught, and be ready to leave the moment I call you.”  
“Are you serious?” Sulehn asked. “How am I supposed to fight a god?”  
“You are my Highest One.”, Dirthamen told her in disinterested voice. “Use your initiative. “

 

“This way.” Abelas told his party. “She is very close.”  
First time in weeks, his heart was filled with a fierce hope. Meeting Mahanon of Clan Lavellan had been a blessing. Abelas had gotten the blood he needed for tracking spell, and something even better. Together, they had managed to repair the hourglass. It wasn’t as beautiful as it had been, and the cracks were still visible, but it was whole again. For Abelas, it was only thing which counted. He needed only the white sand from Falon’Din’s temple, and Sulehn would have her time back.   
“Why, Happy, you are almost smiling.” Varric said good-naturedly.  
“Facing Dirthamen’s servants in a battle is nothing to smile about.” Solas said, ever the spoilsport.  
“We’re talking about my wife.” Abelas said sharply. “There won’t be any fighting.”

When they turned around corner, he saw her sitting on a sarcophagus in the middle of a large chamber. Several exits led to different directions behind her back, and two dwarves – one looking sullen, and other quite eager – were standing behind her. Seeing Sulehn in Dirthamen’s priestly vestments was startling. Although Abelas didn’t generally have opinions of women’s clothes unless it was an armor, black with silver embroidery did not suit her. The colours made her look sickly and pale. She held something white in her hands. A cloth. The dwarves behind her had identical bundles.   
“Are you all right?” he blurted.   
A lovely smile spread on her face.   
“Serah Lavellan.”, she said, happiness shining from her purple eyes. “What are you doing here? You swore you would never again board a ship.”  
“I told you I would—“, Abelas began, but Solas interrupted him with Well of Sorrows.   
“This is not a family reunion, Abelas. This is enemy priest.”  
“Last time we met, you called me your friend.” Sulehn noted, sounding offended. “But I guess it was only to be expected from you. Dread Wolf. There is no negotiating with you, is there?”  
“I’m sorry, but I need the anchor back.” Solas told her. “It is important.”  
“In that case, my lord told me to use my initiative.” Sulehn replied with a mischievous grin.   
Abelas could have warned Dread Wolf about that look, but since Solas was still controlling Abelas through the Well, he couldn’t. What a pity. So he merely watched, deciding to lean back and enjoy the show.

His wife took a bundle of white fabric and pulled it over her head. It was a tunic with large black letters painted on the fabric. The text said CHOOSE LIFE. The dwarves were now wearing identical shirts, except they merely said “GO-GO”. Abelas felt a surge of mana, and their torches blew out in a [sudden gust of a wind](https://youtu.be/pIgZ7gMze7A).

\--

“What are they doing?”, Galder asked as he helped Gertrude to set up the fuse. “The racket is infernal.”  
Dirthamen’s lips curved slightly and he answered:  
“She is calling the dead in their graves to wake up before we go. A very catchy melody.”  
“Is it working?”, Galder looked greenish.  
“Oh, yes.”, Dirthamen assured his minions. “The undead like happy beat.”  
Galder shivered and turned his attention back to fuse.

 

 


	17. Falon'Din's temple part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grande finale at Falon'Din's temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirthamen's siren song: Kiss of Hope by Negative. https://youtu.be/c5HFYOfFYHs

“Wake me up before you go go / 'Cause I'm not plannin' on going solo”, Sulehn’s bright voice echoed from the walls of the crypt. She danced along the narrow passage, shimmying her hips in time with beat the two dwarves produced by clapping their armoured hands together. The whole section of Great Necropolis was filled with the sound of sarcophagus opening and heavy stone lids pushed aside, when Sulehn’s audience woke up.

“Fenedhis lasa! I hate Dirthamen’s people.” Solas cursed with disgust.   
“This is far more interesting than Chantry services.” Isabela noted. “Do you think Dirthamen takes converts? His ass in leather pants still invokes divine thoughts in my mind.”  
“Can you even sing, Rivaini?” Varric asked.  
“He coached some high notes out of me after I picked him up from the karaoke night.” Isabela told her companions with smug expression. “I think I could learn.”  
“This is not the time for jokes, Isabela.” Solas snapped. “If Sulehn is here, I doubt her master is far. We must not let them to reach the center of Falon’Din’s temple.”  
“Very well, but we aren’t coming anywhere before you tell us what’s the deal, here. Happy wants his wife back, and fill the hourglass. That’s fine with me. But what’s your agenda, Solas?” Varric arched his eyebrows.  
Solas looked at Abelas, who glared at him unhappily, and then at the passages which were filled with undead by now. They could no longer see Sulehn or the dwarves.   
“I can’t get to her alone.” Abelas said neutrally. “With Varric and Isabela, maybe.”  
Solas sighed, knowing that he had been defeated.   
“All right.” he said. “A long time ago when Elvhenan was still strong, Falon’Din’s vanity grew so much that he was no longer content with his own kingdom and followers. He started a war to gain more, and only when he breached other gods’ domains, they rallied together to stop him. Falon’Din was struck down in his own temple. He was bloodied by Mythal, and sentenced to imprisonment in this very place. Dirthamen never accepted it. He had agreed to stop Falon’Din, but nothing more, preferring to reason with his lover instead. We never gave him a chance before Falon’Din was locked away. And Dirthamen has resented us ever since, refusing to speak a single word on behalf of Elvhenan before Falon’Din was returned to him.”  
“So that was the deal with all those shut-up mosaics.” Varric shook his head. “Elves.”  
“I can’t know for sure.” Solas said reluctantly, “but I suspect Dirthamen thinks he can break Falon’Din out with the anchor.”  
“Dagna did say it was a key.” Varric shook his head. “Oh, shit.”

 

\--

 

“By the Ancestors, that looks stupid.” a female dwarf noted as the elves yawned, droned and squatted to open their hips.   
“Are we still going after the Archdemons or what?” a gruff-looking dwarf asked.  
Dirthamen merely shook his head, and then incorporated the movement into warmup exercises.   
“I think it’s the baldy and companions who are the problem. There is even one surfacer with them.” the youngest of four dwarves added unhappily.   
“That’s what surfacers do, boy. They always ruin everything.” the gruff one stated.  
Dirthamen was finishing his routine of huffed breaths and sung notes. He looked at Sulehn with strictness of a teacher. She relaxed her shoulders from the tension, straightening her posture.   
“Listen, durgen’len.” Dirthamen began. “Our original plan has been changed because of the intruders. We skip the first and second act, meaning the archdemons, and go straight to finale. It will be splendid. Your job is very simple. You will lay every single trap you have in this chamber to slow our guests.”  
“Can I sing chorus?” the young, beardless dwarf asked eagerly.   
“No. This is my solo, and Sulehn sings chorus.” Dirthamen replied. “But if you are interested, Soren, there might be further employment for you. You are not entirely without talent, and I have a perfect position in mind.”  
“What is it? Will I get a costume, too?” Soren asked hopefully, glancing at Sulehn’s velvet robes with obvious envy.  
“Yes. You even get some feathers. Sadly, they are only available in black. ”, Dirthamen said in deadpan voice.   
“I don’t mind. Black is timeless colour. Very elegant.” Soren said with a wide smile.  
Sulehn fought an urge to giggle. So he had done it. A dwarf for Fear or Deceit. Wonderful joke.   
When Dirthamen turned to look at her, his face was neutral as always, but Sulehn knew her god well enough now to notice a spark in his eyes. Inside, he was probably cackling so hard that his eyes watered.   
“Come.”, he said aloud, taking Sulehn’s arm. “It’s time.”

“You remember what I let you see?” Dirthamen asked wordlessly. “About Falon’Din.”  
“I do.”, Sulehn replied in same way. Thinking of it made her still feel sad. Dirthamen had shown him what had happened in this temple, and his own betrayal by the rest of the gods, who had felt differently about what to do to Falon’Din.   
“I need the anchor to free him.” Dirthamen said. “They made the prison so that I couldn’t break him out alone, not without someone else’s magic. Fen’Harel’s mark qualifies, but it would consume the power. You would no longer have it.”  
“I never wanted the anchor.” Sulehn replied in her mind. “And after what you showed me, I’m happy to help you. I would help, even if you couldn’t force me to do it.”  
A genuine surprise flickered on Dirthamen’s face.   
“You said it last time, as well. Why?” the god asked.   
“Because you miss him.” Sulehn had no other answer. She was feeling a bit emotional, and ridiculously grateful for not having to speak. “You miss him so badly. It hurts even me, so it has to be far worse for you.”  
Dirthamen ruffled her hair gently.   
“You are a hopeless sop, Highest One. If we succeed in this, I promise I’ll figure out a way to break Fen’Harel’s hold over your serah Lavellan.”  
Sulehn had never thought she would feel so happy attempting to release a bloodthirsty god.

 

\--

Armed with a blade and a bow, Abelas had not fought as hard since Mythal died. He cleared his way through the armies of undead, letting the spell of Lavellan blood guide him in the maze. Solas, Varric and Isabela followed in his footsteps, hurrying through the corridors. There were faint notes echoing from the heart of the labyrinth. Abelas knew what they were. Warm-up exercises for a performance.   
“There isn’t much time.” he told the others. “We must hurry.”

When they finally reached a broken stone wall, a makeshift entrance to Falon’Din’s temple, air still stank of smoke. Oddly, there were no undead in sight after they crossed on the other side. Behind the broken stone wall, they were reassembling again, but no longer moving under the compulsion of siren song.   
“When we reach the inner sanctum, you must focus on the dwarves.” Solas instructed Varric and Isabela. “I will deal with Dirthamen and his priest.”  
“What about Happy?” Varric asked, looking at Solas.  
Solas didn’t answer, merely hurried on. That was why he missed the dwarf pursing his lips and sharing a look with Isabela.

  
\--

Sulehn felt the nervous excitement coursing through her veins as she took her designed spot on the grand hall of Falon’Din’s temple. This was it. The grande finale. When curtain fell, she would be free from the anchor. She believed Dirthamen would keep his promise to find a way to free Abelas, as well, and they could return to their life in pirate den. Her heart was full of hope.   
“Whatever happens, do not let go of my hand before the door is broken, and do not stop singing until the last note is over.” Dirthamen said, taking her left hand in his. Something she couldn’t describe clicked in place with the gesture, and Sulehn was suddenly not alone in her own mind. It was like the moment in Deep Roads when Dirthamen had allowed her a glance inside his mind and the secrets he held. The sheer strength of god’s emotion washed over her like tidal wave, and Sulehn was on edge of tears. All that he was, all that he would be, was torn in half and the scar was still fresh.  
But she held fast, and began vocalizing, her voice gathering strength with each eerie note. When a bell tolled, Dirthamen spread his arms and joined in. His song was a lover’s wistful plea, full of faith and hope, and it made cold shivers run along Sulehn’s spine.  
[ _”Once upon a time you were a child / And you started this endless fight._](https://youtu.be/c5HFYOfFYHs)” Dirthamen’s voice was soft with emotion, and the stones of Falon’Din’s temple started to bleed. _“Life is built on a dream, disappointment, stormy seas.”_  
The dwarves behind them were making distressed noises, but Sulehn was too taken with the song to pay attention.  
 _“Always hoped for so much more/ Than life had offered you before.”_ Dirthamen’s gaze was focused on ancient mosaic on opposite wall. “ _Now you start to see new things / Like a flower blooms in spring.”_

The anchor flared violently, but the overcharge was caught by Dirthamen who directed it against Falon’Din’s mosaic on the opposite wall. The magic flew back and forth, feeding the song, and as he began the chorus, Sulehn saw that the mosaic was cracking. Sulehn was the only one who wasn’t thrown to her knees when his voice grew louder, stronger, more demanding. The God of Secrets was bending the world with his siren song, and he was not going to be denied. From the corner of her eye, Sulehn saw a glimpse of Abelas’ golden armor, and she smiled as she threw herself into one song she had been born for. It was theirs, too.

_“A new day will come_   
_And you'll find all the answers_   
_And the kiss of hope_   
_Comes powerful and fast._   
_As you feel so alive, for the first time in your life_   
_You are relieved.”_

 She saw the dwarves turning against Varric, Isabela and Solas. But everything in Sulehn’s vision was awash with green glow of the anchor, and she was lost in merciless current of magic coursing through her. Her arm was glowing green all way to elbow, but oddly, it didn’t hurt. The crack on mosaic was growing larger.

_"Never lost your faith in me, even when we lost belief_   
_We were silent and displaced_   
_We always knew we'd find our way"_

Sulehn noted Solas shouting something, but he couldn’t raise his voice above the siren song. Dwarves were ganging up on him now, but Isabela had slipped away to somewhere, and there was no sign of Abelas.

_"Look around and you will see_   
_There is so much love for you to receive even in our darkest days_   
_We always knew we'd find our way"_

She felt Dirthamen’s relief when a piece of mosaic fell on the floor, and Sulehn saw a pale hand pushing through the hole. Long, slender fingers seized the edge and started tearing the mosaic. And then she saw Abelas standing on her left. He held a bow, and his expression was filled with pain. It was like in Skyhold, when his duty had still weighed heavily on him. He looked just like those times his bad memories and regrets had be driven away by her.

Sulehn smiled, her joy drowning the worry she felt. She looked at Abelas’ golden eyes warmly, willing him to feel better. His god’s voice was leading them towards the very last chorus. All would be well. The anchor was almost gone. The green flames of mark’s magic were licking the mosaic now, keeping the hole in Falon’Din’s prison open by force, and the glow of her hand was dying down.

_"And I see this world is beautiful_   
_Full of opportunities_   
_It was made for you and me"_

 

It was the moment when Abelas raised the bow and shot her. Isabela was on him in a flash, slashing his arm with her daggers as Abelas released the arrow, but it was too late. Sulehn heard a dull thunk, and it took a moment before she registered the blooming pain. She looked down, and saw an arrow sticking from her chest, a hand’s width above her heart.   
His first shot ruined by Isabela, Abelas was notching another arrow. There were tears running down his face, as Sulehn fought for breath in her shock. The God of Secrets squeezed her hand harder. Falon’Din was tearing at his prison at frenzied pace, and she could see a glimpse of someone tall and pale when the green flare of anchor began to die down. They had one verse to go, or it all would have been vain.

_"A new day will come_   
_And you'll find all the answers_   
_And the kiss of hope_   
_Comes powerful and fast_   
_As you feel so alive, for the first time in your life_   
_A new day will born"_

Sulehn’s world was moving and she felt faint, but she clung to life with stubbornness, forcing her voice to go through the last notes of siren song. The God of Secrets was holding her up from under her arms, now, her back against his chest. Her blood was spilling between his fingers, soiling them, and some part of Sulehn wondered if it was all right to bleed one’s god.  
But her voice carried still, albeit weaker, and she willed herself to believe in the words. She would not give up. She—

Sulehn blinked when she heard the sound of clay cracking from Abelas’ direction. Isabela had struck him unconscious with a skeleton jar she had grabbed from corner. He fell on the floor, and the bow dropped from his hands.

The sound of mosaic breaking was even louder. Sulehn’s vision was growing spotty, but she felt the wild joy surging from Dirthamen. And even though she could not see, she knew her god was smiling as he put her down on the floor and ran to meet his love.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you happy ending and elfy babies. We're getting there.


	18. Highest One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebuilding a religion is not easy task. But Dirthamen delivers what he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs in this chapter:
> 
> First one at the temple: Nightwish: Forever yours. https://youtu.be/F0sThY2sDKE  
> Second one at Dirthamen's place: Nightwish: Ever Dream. https://youtu.be/cZUQ3xhmu_A

Sulehn hated Dirthamen's temple. It was dark and damp place which gave her creeps. The water was smelly and there were half-rotten adventurer corpses laying in the corners.  
"Stop sulking.” Dirthamen told her. "You are my Highest One now. It is an honor."  
"I know what happened to last Highest One.", Sulehn replied wordlessly, crossing her arms over her chest.   
Sulehn didn’t know what had happened after Falon’Din’s temple. She had just woken up in this cursed place, her gift too spent to speak a single word out loud. She had seen a glimpse of Falon’Din coming out from the Chamber of Oracle without shirt. Judging by her lord’s tousled hair and hastily donned robe, those two had been happily reconciling before she woke up.  
"Good point.", Dirthamen admitted. "But Fen’Harel is pissed at you for releasing Falon’Din and losing the anchor, so I have to keep you somewhere safe until he gets over it.”  
"I hope Fen'Harel drowns in a barrel of tea.” Sulehn said spitefully. "He detests the stuff."  
"Good to know.” Dirthamen looked pleased. "You will stay here, care for my temple and lead my other disciples as they arrive. There is much to do outside, and I can’t linger long. I trust you will handle everything here adequately."  
Sulehn's expression must have betrayed her opinion of this plan, because the god continued:  
"I will do my best to find out what happened to Abelas."  
"I miss him.” Sulehn said, unable to hide the longing in her heart.   
"Love and loyalty will be rewarded in the end.” Dirthamen said, and the unexpected softness in his eyes was sweet. "Serve me well, and I will tell you something when I come back. And do not wander outside; the changes to come are not going to be gentle on this world.”

It was hard to tell the passing of time, because the temple had no windows, and she was alone. After few sleeps, Sulehn decided to take Dirthamen's command of caring for his temple literally. If she was going to be stuck here forever, she would at least get rid of the creepy skeleton statue, refresh the water in the holy pond and make the temple to feel less threatening.   
It was too easy to imagine how secrets had driven the priests of Dirthamen mad until they had dismembered the Highest One. The names of the rooms were just horrible. Who wanted to sleep in Chamber of Despondency? Path of Secrets was filled with dirty water reaching her knees and the rooms were littered with ugly jars decorated with skulls. There were holes in the walls of Chamber of Whispers, and the rest of the temple was just as depressing. Sulehn's shopping list of essential items filled two pages now.

Sulehn decided to paint the walls of priests' bedchamber with sunny yellow. It was a happy colour, which did not invite ideas of doing nasty things to your superior. The old magic woven in the walls was stubborn, but so was Sulehn, and she had nothing else to do but sing ballads about pretty yellow walls which gave happy thoughts to sleeping priests. Eventually the enchantment stuck. It was much slower than actual painting, but she didn't have paints or anything to eat except mushrooms she cultivated in a dark closet. And if Dirthamen ever came back to complain about her chosen colour scheme, the room _was_ called Chamber of Unheeding.

She dragged all veilfire stones, bones and skull jars into Crypts of Forgotten and locked the door. Keeping the story of former Highest One secret would keep the future priests from getting wrong ideas. To be honest, Sulehn was rather worried about the other disciples Dirthamen had spoken about. What kind of elf would voluntarily choose to live here instead of... the temple of Mythal, for example? It had air, birds, dry pavements and the priests didn't perform grievous rites of blood magic out of suspicion. She didn't know what Fen'Harel had done to Mythal, and she was more than a little worried about Abelas' mental state. Being forced to shoot one’s wife was bad enough, and she didn’t know how he would react if he had been forced to return to ruined temple in service of Fen'Harel, but Sulehn tried to convince herself that at least it wouldn't be as bad as this place.

 

Sulehn was cleaning algae from Path of Sorrows when the wards on the temple entrance alerted her of someone approaching. She took her staff and waded through the water to the stairs leading to surface. She couldn't get farther than that - she had tried, but the stupid magic which kept Highest One alive even through dismemberment or being shot also bound her to temple and Dirthamen’s will.

She saw a group of three elves through the magical barrier sealing the entrance. They were not trying to dispel the barrier, but watched her, waiting. Sulehn shook her head, annoyed, and ran back down to grab a veilfire torch. It was impossible to see anything in this dark place. She didn't want to open the door and then find out they were Fen’Harel’s people. Sulehn still had nightmares about Falon’Din’s temple.

The elves were still waiting when she returned with the lit torch. Their faces were marked with Dirthamen's vallaslin, and there was a raven sitting on a stone pillar behind them. Sulehn dispelled the barrier to let them in, and hoped her new disciples weren't insane murderers. Abelas had always spoken warmly about his sentinel brothers and sisters, but Sulehn was not entirely convinced it would be same for Dirthamen's servants. Silence made it hard to develop friendships.  
Two of the elves were old enough to have grey hair, a man and a woman. The third one was a young man. They kneeled in front of her in reverence. Sulehn decided it was a good sign.  
"Highest One.” the young man said, offering a small gilded box to her. Sulehn opened it and saw a pair of familiar bracelets with a note attached.  
 _"Fear and Deceit will bring my servants to you. Teach them silence."_  
The raven croaked, and Sulehn motioned it to come closer. She pulled the shopping list from her pocket, rolled it into a cylinder and tied it with a string around raven's neck. Fear took flight, and Sulehn was pleased. If she got even half of the items, living here could be bearable.   
"Is it a sacred message for our lord?” the woman asked, her voice filled with awe.  
Sulehn snapped the bracelets on her wrists and cast the spell, grimacing as she felt the magic starting to leech her blood.  
"It was a shopping list.” she said dryly. "I'm getting tired of eating mushrooms."

Having three novice priests gave Sulehn a better idea about Dirthamen's game. The people he had chosen were all excellent scryers. They each picked a statue with skeleton figure holding a bowl, put some water in it, and spent hours just watching the reflections on water. Sulehn made rounds, checking periodically that they were still alive, and listened their reports of what they had seen. The new elves didn't seem to possess the reality-bending song she had. They were more like normal mages, specialized in divination.  
She filled Dirthamen's demand of teaching silence by being silent herself. The constant usage of bracelets was making her feel dizzy, and she craved meat badly enough to consider eating one of his ravens. Only thing holding her back was that she wasn't sure which one was the dwarf, and Sulehn liked young Soren. The novices seemed quite impressed by her devotion and tried very hard not to talk.

Next group of people were mostly scryers too, with two shapeshifters and one Dreamer among them. Sulehn sent the second page of her shopping list with Deceit, with an annoyed note reminding her god that she could not feed and clothe ten people solely using mushrooms. Mushroom farm had already taken over the Chamber of Torment, and if she was not going to get any actual supplies, Chamber of Misery would be next.

Sulehn spent a lot of time in Chamber of Oracle, which she had taken for her personal space, and writing down things the new priests told her. One of the new people had figured out a way to make parchment from red polyphores and algae, and although it was rough enough to make her hands itchy, it was better than trying to memorize everything. Even though the individual pictures and reflections rarely made any sense, using the knowledge from others and the notes from previous days she could tease out the truths behind. It was fascinating, and Sulehn felt herself warming slightly to her job. The repairs of the temple were much faster now when there were ten of them working.

One day elves just started coming. All kinds of elves, with different vallaslins or none. Only thing uniting them was their despair. They came with empty hands and offered Sulehn a whispered secret before asking for her help. Some of the secrets were small; a name chosen for a daughter who was never born or a story of his first crush, and some were larger: names she had glimpsed from a document on king's desk, or a place where he had thrown a diamond he had taken from his owner's corpse. Sulehn accepted them all, and sang for each of them in sanctuary, piercing the despair in their hearts so they could go free. It was just like meeting Abelas for the first time, and she wondered where he was. If he was all right.

\--

Her latest supplicant was a girl, maybe eight years old. Sulehn could feel the numb emptiness in child's heart. Poor thing had seen too much, too soon. She took child's hands in her own in Dirthamen's Sanctuary and the song flowed from her lips, making girl's sorrow heard.  
[ _"Fare thee well, little broken heart_](https://youtu.be/F0sThY2sDKE)  
 _Downcast eyes, lifetime loneliness._  
 _Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone."_  
The girl suddenly dashed towards Sulehn, hugging her waist and hiding her tear-stained face against her dress. Sulehn stroked child's hair and her curse voiced child's request:  
_"No love left in me_  
 _No eyes to see the heaven beside me_  
 _My time is yet to come_  
 _So I'll be forever yours."  
_ "I accept.", a man's voice echoed in Sulehn's mind. Sulehn lifted up her gaze to see Dirthamen standing there with unfamiliar people carrying several boxes. The god looked her in the eye, purple eyes meeting purple, and he spoke to her without sound.  
"Tell her to choose a name and give her a place in the temple. Give her vallaslin."  
"Isn't she too young for that?", Sulehn disagreed.  
"She thinks herself old enough to pledge herself in servitude of a god. If she can't withstand the pain, she is not worth of the honor."  
Sulehn wanted to tell what she thought of Dirthamen's idea, but she couldn't say a word aloud, so she simply glared at her lord and master. Dirthamen looked amused when Sulehn swiped her fingers over the bracelet and transferred his commands to Leneth, the young man who was wearing the second bracelet today.   
_"His wish will be done.”_ Leneth replied, full of religious fervour. Sulehn grimaced. Some of the seers were first-class religious fanatics who would have cut out their own tongues if Sulehn allowed it. She had lectured them how keeping one's silence was a trial of faith, and cutting out body parts would have disrespected their master. Sometimes it felt she was leading a bunch of lunatics.

"Your thoughts are most entertaining.” Dirthamen told her as a priest put a box on the floor in the Chamber of Oracle and left, closing the door behind himself. The God of Secrets looked around. There were dozen jars filled with ugly parchments written in blood, but no furniture except a hammock Sulehn had woven from vines.  
"Wouldn't you want to give the job of Highest One to Leneth? He would be overjoyed.” Sulehn suggested hopefully.  
"No.", Dirthamen refused. "I've grown quite fond of you. Especially those cranky notes you keep sending with Fear and Deceit."  
"This place is just so depressing. It wouldn't kill you to send me some clothes so I wouldn't have to wear the shirt I was killed in.", Sulehn complained. "Or at least a sewing needle and thread. Layering doesn't help when the hole is in exact same place in each layer."  
"It is true I can't take you anywhere looking like that.” Dirthamen agreed and nodded towards the box. "I brought you more suitable attire, among everything else on your list."  
Sulehn grabbed the box, tearing it open. It was like having shemlen Satinalia with all gifts coming at once. Oh, Creators, he had brought her a comb! And soap to wash her hair with. And gauze for binding her bloody wrists. Actual paper! There was a packet of beef jerky - she had complained about feeling dizzy for the constant blood loss - and Sulehn sat on the floor, happily devouring the meat. It tasted heavenly after the mushrooms.   
"What do you know of Tevinter?” Dirthamen asked. She knew he was laughing at her, but she didn't care.  
"It's in the third jar on the right.” Sulehn replied, her mouth full of dried meat.

Dirthamen's idea of suitable attire was odd yet strangely beautiful. The dress was black, which was to be expected. The upper part of bodice and short gloves, which mercifully covered her bruised wrists, were black lace, and several thin silver chains ran loosely from one feathered shoulder to another. It was a dress to make Tevinter lady magister to squeal in delight, but less angular than those pointy hoods they usually wore.  
"You promised me knowledge about Abelas.” Sulehn reminded her master as she bent down to watch her reflection from the pool.  
"All these years and you still yearn for your sentinel?” Dirthamen asked. His voice sounded almost gentle in Sulehn's mind.  
"What years?” Sulehn turned to look at him.  
"You have been here for some time.” Dirthamen told her. “But your wait is almost over. I’m hosting a meeting of gods at my place. Here is what you need to do…”

 

**\--The meeting of Creators at Dirthamen's private apartment in fancy part of Val Royaux theatre district--**

The siren song coming from Dirthamen's balcony was clearly audible through the closed door.  
[ _"Ever felt away with me / Just once that all I need /Entwined in finding you one day"_](https://youtu.be/cZUQ3xhmu_A)  
"Is she never going to stop?", Sylaise asked, starting to feel annoyed. "We are trying to hold a meeting here."  
"It depends.” Dirthamen said, undisturbed, and poured himself a glass of fruit juice.  
 _"Ever felt away without me / My love, it lies so deep / Ever dream of me"  
_ "Depends from what?” Andruil snapped. She could resist the compulsion, but keeping up her mental barriers for long period of time gave her headaches.  
"Whether she gets what she wants or not.” Dirthamen supplied. "You could release her husband from uthenera, Fen'Harel."  
"I can't spend too much power to control an unwilling servant."  
"Then don't.", Falon'Din said. "You could make things simple for yourself. Give up Mythal's power, as we agreed, and Father will not kill you."  
Fen'Harel didn't look entirely convinced.  
"I can't just give it up. It has to go somewhere."  
"A new vessel, then?” Ghilan'nain suggested. "I could make something suitable?"  
"Your creations were so ugly that you had to kill them all.” June turned up his nose. "I wouldn't trust you with Mythal's essence. Or you, Fen'Harel. You already stole it once."  
"What about that human who drank from the Well?” Sylaise suggested.  
"She is a human.” Andruil spat. The word tasted dirty in her mouth. "Do you honestly think Elgar'nan will be pleased to see Mythal in human body? We will all burn."  
 _"Come out, come out wherever you are / so lost in your sea / Give in, give in for my touch / for my taste for my lust."_  
"I have an idea.” Dirthamen said smoothly.

"That is actually a good idea.” Sylaise said after Dirthamen finished his explanation.  
"I told you it was.” Falon'Din looked smug.  
"You praise all Dirthamen's suggestions.” June pointed out. "But yes, this is a good idea. Elgar'nan can't complain about it."  
"And we will get rid of that insufferable noise.” Andruil nodded, massaging her temples.  



	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later.

“This way, father.” Dirthamen said as he led Elgar’nan past the Llomerryn guard and up the old, squeaky stairs to the third floor.  
“Are you certain this is the right place?” Elgar’nan asked, looking suspiciously at rundown building. “Why she isn’t in a temple?”  
“We deemed it safer this way. Nobody would look for her here.” Dirthamen replied smoothly. He was carrying a bundle of branches in his arms.  
The God of Secrets led Elgar’nan to door marked with glyph of magic, and knocked on the wood.

Abelas opened the door. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he looked a bit dishevelled.  
“Andaran atishan, my lords.” he greeted the guests, bowing deep. “I’m pleased to inform you that everything went fine.”  
“Yes, we already know that.” Dirthamen replied, but Elgar’nan pushed past him.  
“Where is she?” he asked from Abelas. The god’s eyes flashed in barely contained emotion, and he looked around the workroom, searching.  
“Here, my lord.” Sulehn called through the open door. She stood in the bedroom. Her white hair was falling free over her shoulders and she looked exhausted, but there was a ridiculously happy smile on her face. It only bloomed brighter as she looked at the baby she held in her arms.  
Elgar’nan strode across the room in instant.  
“Mythal.”, the god of Vengeance whispered, looking at the newborn. The infant opened her eyes, and the golden gaze was unfocused for a moment, before she stopped to stare at Elgar’nan.  
“Would you like to hold her, my lord?” Sulehn offered.  
“Yes.” Elgar’nan said, and his voice was thick with emotion. Sulehn gave her baby to Elgar’nan’s arms and tactfully retreated to workroom to give him a moment of privacy. She was worried that Elgar’nan might start to cry, and she didn’t have any idea what she should do then.

There was a little varterral in Abelas’ workshop. Dirthamen was just joining the last two twigs together, and he pulled back with a smug expression when the creature stood on eight legs and started to patrol around the room.  
“I’m a bit worried on how this will react to my customers.” Abelas said as he watched the little varterral masquerading itself among a stack of wood.  
“It will only add to your reputation.” Dirthamen said, unconcerned. “And it’s customary to bring gifts for a new baby.”  
He pulled out a chair for himself and addressed Sulehn:  
“Father was most insistent that I should give you a maternity leave from work. He rudely called my temple a damp hellhole, claiming it is unsuitable for a baby. There was a lot of discussion about suitable location. Mythal’s own temple is overrun with shems, and we didn’t feel that trusting her safety to sentinels was a good call, since they failed once already. So it was established that Llomerryn will remain a neutral ground until Mythal is grown up.”  
Abelas tensed when their failure was mentioned, but Dirthamen ignored him.  
“I have to say that I agree about the temple.” Sulehn said. “It’s not my favourite place.”  
“There was a personnel problem last week.” Dirthamen replied.  
“Don’t say that Leneth finally cut his tongue out?” Sulehn asked.  
“And his ears.” Dirthamen nodded.  
“I told him that was not the point!” Sulehn burst out in frustration. “A few months off, and what I get? Disciples doing idiotic things and probably they have reduced to eating algae by now since you are so bad at doing the shopping. Did they forget to keep painting the Chamber of Unheeding with happy colours? And the children! I shouldn’t have left them in temple with idiot like Leneth.”  
“It’s all been handled.” Dirthamen raised the palm of his hand in calming gesture.  
“How?” Sulehn demanded.  
“I sent the dwarves there. Three of them are making renovations, and Soren is filling in for you quite nicely. This expansionist take on my religion has worked so well that I thought we could take up some missionary work.”  
He pulled out a parchment from the folds of his cloak and spread it on the table.  
“The first three months are sold out already.” Dirthamen announced with a smug smile. “And we got a query from Empress of Orlais for private performance.”  
The poster had a couple kissing on a balcony of Skyhold, and too-familiar star constellation shining above them. Abelas felt slightly unwell looking at it. Especially when he noticed that the man looking disturbingly like him was missing a shirt.  
“Theatre of Llomerryn presents: Abelas and siren song. A romantic musical.” Sulehn read from the poster. “ _A love that endures._ Manuscript and production by Dirthamen, God of Secrets.”


End file.
